Moments
by Some1tookmyname
Summary: The little moments we don't see on screen...a collection of drabble and one shots
1. Life Expectancy

_Author's Note: A wise reviewer once told me:" In the eight years B&B have known each other, we have been present for less than 5,418 minutes of it (129 episodes x 42 minutes airtime). Granted, a lot of important minutes happened in those 5000+ minutes, but we've missed most..." So what happens in those moments is what I'm tackling here. They may jump around in time and seasons and maybe go into a pretend future. I will always let you know at the start of each where we are time wise. I've been having some serious writer's block so I thought these short pieces might be the way to go for now. Tame stuff for now, if things change I will adjust the rating accordingly. I hope you enjoy!_

_PS- The wise reviewer from above? She also has a thing against long Author's Notes, so clearly, I don't always listen. _

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><p><strong>Post Hole in the Heart but prior to The Change in the Game.<strong>

He was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her.

He could easily imagine himself just taking either side of her face in her hands and kissing her senseless right there in the cereal aisle of the grocery store.

"Booth! Are you listening to me?" she startled him out of his daydream.

"What? Yes…no…what?"

"If I buy this, will you eat it?"

He took the box from her hands. "This is like…healthy."

"That's the point."

"Parker will not eat this stuff."

"When is Parker going to have breakfast at my apartment? This is for you."

"Yeah, I don't want to eat that either."

"Booth!"

"I like oatmeal."

"That oatmeal you buy isn't even the healthy kind. It's instant and flavored and full of sugar and preservatives."

"And full of taste. This stuff…" he shook the box "…this stuff tastes like the box it comes in."

"You don't know that. You've never even tried it."

"And I'm not about to try it now."

"You know, chances are I'm going to outlive you anyway. I'm five years younger and women live longer than men. You could at least try to maximize your life span through proper eating habits."

He put the box down, took her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly.

"What was that for?" she asked with a small smile when they broke apart.

"Because you're going to miss me when you're old and I'm dead."

"Keep eating the way you do and I won't be that old but you'll be no less dead."

"Ha-ha, Bones. Very funny."

_~End~_

_Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading._


	2. Magic

_Thanks for the reviews on the first drabble! Here's some more for you!_

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><p><strong>Future Fic...let's say 6 years from the end of The Change in the Game<strong>

His tongue was halfway down her collarbone when she remembered.

"Booth?"

"Hmmmm?" He didn't look up, reversing and kissing his way back up her collarbone instead.

"Did you remember The Tooth Fairy?"

He stopped, laid his forehead in her neck. "I thought you did it."

"You know I won't perpetuate such ridiculous myths."

"It's childhood magic, Bones." He pushed his arms up and locked his elbows, hovering over her.

"And it's your job. You remember the deal."

"Yeah, yeah. You won't ruin the magic with logic…"

"And?" She arched her eyebrow at him.

"And it's my job to follow through and make the magic happen. I started it, so I have to finish it."

"That's right. Raising our children with fairies and egg hiding bunnies and other mythical creatures was what you wanted, so it's your job to take care of it"

"Fine." He capitulated, crawling off of her and out of bed. "But don't fall asleep while I'm gone." He winked.

"I won't" she promised. "And don't use the glitter this time!" She whispered fiercely when he had one foot out their bedroom door.

"What? Why? The glitter on her pillow makes it extra fairy-like!"

"It took me a _month _to get all the sparkles out of her hair last time. If you want to experience magic tonight don't come back here with glitter on your hands." She looked deadly serious, but he recognized the other look in her eyes too and nodded somberly. Message received.

She laid there and looked at the ceiling, contemplating the anthropological relevance of mythical creatures in childhood happiness for about five minutes before he was back.

"Look, Bones." He held his hands up. "No glitter."

"Very nice." she smiled.

He crawled into bed and resumed his position from before she remembered his tooth fairy duties. "Where were we?" He whispered with a wicked little charm smile.

She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him so hard and so passionately she literally stole his breath.

"Wow" was all he could manage when she let him go.

"There is something very sexy about you in Magical Daddy mode." She confessed.

"Oh really?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Yeah. Really." She smiled the sexy little lopsided smile that melted his heart every time.

"Then I really hope they believe for a very, very long time."

~End~

_Thanks for reading. Reviews are always much appreciated._


	3. Scared

_Thank you all so much for the alerts and reviews. You guys are amazing! We take a little more serious turn here...a little something I've always wondered about._

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><p><strong>This one is from S4, The Critic in the Cabernet.<strong>

She was petrified.

It was a different kind of terror than she'd experienced buried alive or at the hands of Kenton, but it was terror nonetheless.

She'd driven him straight to the hospital. The fact that he hadn't argued, protested or complained about her driving in any way frightened her almost as much as the hallucinations.

When they had checked in at the ER and been told to wait, Booth had gone outside to call Parker. He was hoping to have his spirits buoyed by his son.

But she went to work.

Thankful she'd had the presence of mind to bring her laptop, and thankful for well equipped hospitals with WiFi, she immediately began researching symptoms and diagnoses, doctors and surgeons. The facts would make her feel better.

He would only have the best. Of this, she would make certain.

"Did you speak with Parker?" She asked when he came back a while later.

"Yeah."

"Did it help?"

"A little."

"What about Rebecca?"

"Not until there is something to tell."

She nodded in agreement. "That seems prudent."

"It might not be anything."

"It might not."

"Maybe just stress or exhaustion" he offered.

"Sure. Maybe." She would take any hope she could grab onto, just like he was.

"What are you doing?"

"Just research." She closed her laptop and stowed it away. "This is a very good hospital."

They sat in a conversationless silence steeped in fear for another thirty minutes before someone called him back to be seen. "Seeley Booth?"

He stood and looked at her. "Come with me?"

She was grateful that he'd asked.

She listened to Booth give his history to the nurse. She watched when the doctor examined him. She called Cam and paced in agony outside the door of the CAT Scan room.

And she held his hand as the doctor said "It's most likely a cerebella pilocytic astrocytoma. It's a…"

"A brain tumor…It's…it's a brain tumor." Her voice cracked and shook as she interrupted the doctor, but she'd be damned if Booth was going to hear that kind of thing from a stranger in a white lab coat.

"I have a…a brain tumor?" Of all the scenarios he'd considered, this was honestly the last one he'd thought it would be.

"Yes" answered the doctor.

Booth heard his own voice, but it sounded weird to his ears. "Is it cancer?"

"Most likely not. This type of tumor is most often benign. However we would like to operate immediately. We have great success at removal with no permanent damage."

"What kind of success?" He felt shell shocked but wanted to know his odds. Being a recovering gambling addict didn't chase away the need to know the odds. Not when the risk was so big.

"Ninety percent."

"So, uh, when…when do you want to do this?"

"Now."

"Now?" Booth turned to Brennan, his frightened eyes imploring her. "No, Bones, I can't. I…I want to see Parker and…and Pops and…I have things...things I'm in middle of. I can't... I can't..."

"I know. I know." She squeezed his hand and tried to steady her voice, blink away her tears. "But, you really should do this now. Every minute that you wait…" She couldn't finish that sentence. "Please, Booth. You need to do this now."

"She's right, Mr. Booth. We don't want to take any chances."

"I…I, uh, I have to call people." He was trying to work through his thoughts, wondering briefly if the tumor was clouding his thinking because he couldn't articulate anything or come to any conclusions at all.

"We have an O.R. available in an hour. I have you booked in it." The doctor needed Booth's final say.

"He'll do it." She answered for him as she watched him struggle. She threw him a metaphorical anchor, something concrete to respond to. "Right, Booth?"

"Yeah." He nodded, still absorbing the shock of it all. "Yeah. I'll do it."

"Excellent. We just have some forms you'll need to fill out."

"Of course." She answered for the stunned man next to her. "Or I'll fill them out. I'm his medical proxy." She squeezed his hand again and met his eyes. "Call your grandfather. Call Rebecca. Talk with Parker again. It's going to be okay, Booth. Statistically, you are going to be fine." She sounded braver than she felt.

"Why don't you follow me and I'll show you to your room." The doctor lead the way down the hall and stopped in front of a small room. "We'll prep you for surgery in here. You can make your phone calls before we begin." He smiled kindly. "We're very good at what we do, Mr. Booth. I expect it will all go quite smoothly."

"Thank you, Doctor Jursik."

"Yeah. Thanks, Doc." Booth was clearly still reeling but trying to regroup as the doctor left the room. "Bones…"

"It's going to be okay."

"Yeah, right? I mean, they'll go in and take it out and sew me up…good as new." He was trying to be brave…for both of them.

"Yes. Good as new." She swallowed hard. "I… I called Cam and she said she'd tell everyone. They're probably all in the waiting room. I should go let them know what's happening while you make your calls."

"Okay." It came out a whisper.

"I'll hurry."

"Thanks, Bones."

Impulsively she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You're going to be fine, Booth." It was as much for her as it was for him.

He gave her a small smile and a nod and pulled out his phone to make his calls.

She heard that he began with his grandfather as she left the room to go talk to their friends.

~End~

_Thanks for reading. Reviews are much appreciated. :)_


	4. Pain, Panic and Pretending

_This one was inspired by a late night twitter conversation w/ 2 lovely Bones fic writing friends, Sunsetdreamer and RositaLG. After you read this, look up their work. They are both amazing writers. If you'd like to participate in some of these late night conversations, look me up on twitter. The little at symbol doesn't work here, but I'm at some1tookmename (It's just a little different than my name here. Ironically, someone on twitter took my name!)_

_Also, in this one I broke one of my own fic writing pet peeves: there is A LOT of script from the show in this entry. Normally I don't like that. If I saw it on TV, I don't need to rehash it word for word in the story. But for this one, I felt like it was needed to set the scene. I hope it works for you. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Harbingers in the Fountain- Booth saves Brennan from the doctor<strong>

She was trying to catch her breath when he crouched down next to her.

"Bones! You all right? You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm alright. I'm okay." She was reeling. That had been too close.

"Bones! Your arm! Look!"

"Oh god." She knew better but her brain went into automatic pilot and she grasped the handle to pull the weapon out.

"No! Don't pull it out! Don't touch that!"

She yanked it out of her arm, tossing it down beside her as Booth immediately covered the wound, one arm around her, holding her injured arm with both hands.

"Bones! Easy. I gotcha. I gotcha. It's going to be all right, alright? Alright." He was babbling, trying to keep his head on straight and his panic under control.

"Thank you" she whispered, grabbing his wrist and clutching it tightly.

He held her close, rested his chin on her head. "Easy. The ambulance is on it's way, okay?"

"Okay. You have to keep the pressure on the wound." It hurt so much.

"Okay, I got it. I got it. Just relax. Just trust me, alright?" She nodded, closing her eyes. "I'll take care of you. Ssshhh. Breathe. I'll take care of you." She curled further into him then, so he kept spouting comfort. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I got you." Without thinking, the words coasting out of his mouth on a crest of thankfulness and reassurance, he kissed her head and said "I got you, Baby."

She heard him. She heard him clearly and she just didn't care. Right there, in his embrace, she just couldn't care about how he felt or how she felt or what was crossing any lines. She just didn't care.

Her metaphorical heart had taken a hit much worse than her arm. She'd nearly lost him. The brain tumor and then the coma. And when he woke up he believed in a life she'd dare to dream for them. A life that wasn't real and never would be. Never could be.

But in that moment, that moment where she was hurt but safe and in his arms and he kissed her head and called her "Baby?" She would pretend. She would indulge, just this once. For this brief instant she would believe he would always be there, that he would always save her and that he wasn't confused. That he loved her…the way she was starting to understand that she loved him.

She knew they'd never talk about it. There was so much they never talked about.

She heard the ambulance wailing closer and she knew her moment was almost over.

He was still whispering. "I'd never let anything happen to you. You know that, right? I'm always here. I'm here, okay? I got you. You're going to be fine. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. I promise. You're safe."

So she held on a little bit tighter, turned in a little bit closer, buried her face a little further into his chest until the paramedics arrived.

And the moment was gone.

~End~

_Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts._


	5. Foul

_Again, thank you all for the reviews and alerts. I appreciate you all so much._

_This one is for Jena. She'll know why._

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><p><strong>I would put this one at roughly eighteen months after The Change in the Game.<strong>

"That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen, Bones." He told her as they looked down at the evidence.

"We've stood over countless bodies in various stages of decomposition. To say this is the most disgusting thing you've ever seen is clearly an exaggeration."

"No. No, it isn't. That's…oh, god. Where is that stuff we can put under our noses for the smell?"

"I don't use that. I never have. Neither have you."

"Yeah well, we should start."

"This doesn't bother me. I've found I've become rather immune to the odors a body can emit."

"This is the worst smell ever."

"Again, exaggeration. It's simply not that bad."

"It really is_ that_ bad."

"Are you going to stand there complaining or are you going to hand me another baby wipe?" She held out her free hand.

"I had no idea a baby could poop so much or smell so bad." Booth held his nose and handed her what was probably the fifth or sixth baby wipe.

"Are you trying to insinuate that Parker never defecated?"

"What? No! Of course he defe…pooped. But I do not remember it being like this."

"I'm sure it was."

"I don't think so. What did you feed her today?"

"Assorted fruits and vegetables, some of those biscuits, tofu, wheat germ…Booth, this is just what baby excrement smells like."

"I'm blaming the tofu and wheat germ."

"That's fine. Blame my healthy eating and feeding choices." She scooped their naked daughter up and handed her to Booth. "But can you please go give her a bath? Wipes aren't going to get it out of her hair."

"Sure. What are you going to do?"

"Start dinner."

"What's for dinner? He went one way down the hall toward the bathroom, she went the other toward the kitchen.

"Maybe it's tofu." she answered, looking at him sassily over her shoulder.

"Please, no."

"My turn to prepare dinner, my choice." She disappeared around the corner with a smile.

He shook his head, still standing in the hall. "Daddy got the short end of that deal, baby," he told the tiny girl in his arms, who promptly clapped her hands.

"I heard that!" she hollered from the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator and pulled out anything but tofu.

That diaper really had been foul.

~End~

_Thanks for reading._


	6. Risk Assessment

_Thanks again for all the alerts and reviews and tweets! I really appreciate your encouragement._

_This one is something that struck me as a mom about Booth and Brennan...something I think they would consider, given their backgrounds. _

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><p><strong>Let's put this one about two and a half years from the end of Season 6<strong>

They sat on the back of the ambulance, she holding an ice pack to the knot on her head and he with what was likely a cracked rib and some nasty cuts and bruises. Both were refusing to go to he hospital.

They watched the scene before them in total silence. The area was taped off, pictures were being taken of the dead suspect. Bullet holes were marked and labeled. Each of them had given separate accounts of what had happened and the FBI seemed satisfied with what they each had said.

The suspect in the double homicide of a Congressman's daughter and her boyfriend had jumped out from behind an impossibly small area neither Booth nor Brennan had ever thought he could be. A slight man, he was deceptively strong and wiry, and he had grabbed Brennan from behind and forced her to her knees, holding a gun to her temple.

Booth had done everything right. There would be no question that their off work partnership had affected the situation. It hadn't. She could read the terror in his eyes just as well as he could read hers, but ever the good team, they had done what needed to be done to escape the situation and apprehend the suspect.

She'd waited. She'd let the suspect think she was afraid and weak. She let Booth talk to him, try to reason, attempt to get him to let her go. And when it seemed he thought she was passive enough to loosen his grip just a little, she'd employed every move she could think of to get out of his grasp.

It had worked.

She had swept his leg out from underneath him and he had fired a shot in startled response. They'd fought, she took a blow to the head.

Booth had tackled the man and knocked the gun from his hand. As they struggled, Brennan had rolled free, picking up the suspect's gun in case she got a chance to shoot. It was then she saw the murderer remove a weapon from his pocket.

"KNIFE!" she'd screamed as Booth moved to the side, turning what would likely have been a fatal stab wound into a nasty gash instead. Booth fell, and the suspect had advanced on him quickly. Her partner had had no time to reach for his gun.

But she'd had a clear shot and she took it.

The suspect was dead, they were bruised and beaten but alive and they each had one thing on their mind.

"We can't keep doing this to her." Brennan said quietly as they watched the suspect's body get lifted onto a stretcher.

"Yeah. I know."

"We both could have died in there." Her volume was rising, her voice upset.

"I know." He said again, grabbing her hand.

"I won't…I won't turn our daughter into an orphan, Booth." Quieter now, she shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I won't do that to her."

He nodded. "Like your parents did to you."

"And yours to you, more or less."

"Yeah." He looked down at their clasped together hands.

"No matter how much Angela and Hodgins would love her…"

"They aren't us." He finished for her.

"No. They're not." She said what he'd been thinking. "One of us should stop."

"I guess…I guess that would be you." He swallowed hard, the idea of partnering with anyone else was unimaginable.

"I…I'm an anthropologist. I don't have to do this. You…"

"This is who I am."

She nodded. "But you have two children, Booth. Your death…" she took a shaky breath, the concept of his death uncomfortable to consider "…your death would do more damage."

"No. If I can't be the one watching your back, you're not going out into the field."

For once she didn't argue with his protective nature. She really didn't want to partner up with anyone else, anyway.

"Maybe they'll let us work like we did when I was pregnant. Me in the lab, you in the field with rotating agents and Sweets to assist you."

"Maybe." He seemed to weigh something in his mind before he continued. "You know…I'm not getting any younger. A lot of guys my age move to desk jobs, out of the field."

"You'd hate that."

"Yeah, well, I also hate the idea of hauling Sweets or a bunch of rookies everywhere I go."

"I suppose you should speak with Andrew. We should know what our options are."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow."

She nodded and they sat together in silence for several minutes until she said "Everything is about to change."

"We've handled change before."

"That's true."

"We've always come out better for it."

"Yes we have." She sighed. "I'll miss the work. But today all I could think was that Hadley would wonder where we were, why we weren't coming to get her…" Her tears fell, now, the idea of abandoning their daughter crushing her heart.

"This is what being a parent is. You sacrifice what you want for what's best for your kid."

"I would do anything for her." She leaned into him, resting her head on his arm.

"So would I."

~End~

_Thanks for reading! Do you have a moment you've always wondered about? Something you wish we'd seen, or would see but didn't or likely won't? I'm always open to suggestions! Drop me a PM or leave it in your review or find me on Twitter! atsome1tookmename. Thanks again!_


	7. Hurry Up and Wait

_Ever wonder about what Brennan said to Booth when she called from New Orleans to tell him she had amnesia and was covered in blood? Ever wonder how that call made him feel? Yeah, me too!_

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><p><strong>This one is from The Man in the Morgue<strong>

He is halfway through his bowl of oatmeal when his entire day is turned upside down by her phone call.

"Booth!" he barks into his phone, without checking to see who it is.

"Booth? It's me…it's…" He usually smiles when his partner begins to clarify who she is, as if he wouldn't know her voice by now. But not today. Today she sounds…small and it makes his blood freeze in his veins.

"Bones? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure…I don't… I was supposed to be getting on the plane…"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm supposed to pick you up at the airport." He checks his watch. "You're not at the airport?"

"No. I…something happened. There's blood everywhere…"

"Blood? Are you okay? What the hell happened?" Now his heart is pumping hard and he can feel his own blood rushing in his ears. He stands, the last remnants of breakfast forgotten as he begins collect his things: gun, badge, wallet, keys, jacket.

"I don't remember."

"Are you hurt?" He closes his eyes, prays quickly she'll say no.

"Some of it is my blood, but there's so much. I think…I think it's someone else's, too. I'm pretty sure I have a fracture…I don't know…I don't know where yesterday went."

"What you mean?" He is sprinting to his car now, heading for the airport and he hasn't thought it through beyond the initial need to get to her.

"I woke up like this, covered in blood and I don't know what happened. I lost a whole day. I don't…" she lets out a wobbly, shuddering breath and it makes his heart sink further than her words did.

"Did you call the cops? 911?"

"Yes. They're coming."

"I'm coming, too, okay? I'm on my way."

"No, Booth, don't."

"This is what partners do." It's a BS line. He's never had a partner, not like what they are, so he wouldn't know what partners do. What he does know is that he needs to see her, to protect her, to save her from this, whatever it is.

"You don't have to come. Just go to work and I'll call you when I know something."

"Like hell" he mutters

"What?" She is distracted by knocking at her door.

He hears it too. "Who's that?"

"It's the paramedics. I…"

"Let them check you out, Bones. Let them take you to the hospital. You need to be seen by a doctor. Promise me you'll go." He is more forceful with his words than normal because he can't look her in the eye to convey just how serious he is.

"I will." She hangs up without another word and he spends the next twenty minutes on the phone finding the next flight to New Orleans while driving like a madman.

He arrives at the airport and, though he has no idea how long he will be gone, he leaves his car in short term parking because he just needs to _go _and the idea of waiting for the parking lot bus is too asinine to consider.

Everyone is moving so slowly. The ticket agent, the other passengers, security, no one seems to feel the urgency that he does. The only thing keeping him from using his badge to move to the front of each line is that he knows he will just get to the gate and have to wait anyway. Flashing his badge will not make the plane leave earlier. It will not make time move more quickly.

The flight is no faster than the pace in the airport. The two and a half hours of flying time are excruciating to him. He is in the front, the bulkhead, nearest to the exit, having used charm and title dropping to secure that place. He wants to be off that plane first, as soon as the door opens.

He sits leaning forward, as if he can urge_ the plane_ forward, almost like a jockey on a horse. The scenarios that fill his head are scary, so terrifying that he has to keep reminding himself that, no matter what, she's alive. He's spoken with her and she may not be alright but she is alive and that's what matters most. He does not want to consider what may have happened. He tries not spend too long on the fact that someone should ask for a rape kit.

He also does not want to think too much about what this panic inside him means. Yes, he would be worried for anyone in this situation, but if he is honest with himself he will admit he is _afraid_ for her in a way that exceeds anything he has experienced before and his need to see her borders on irrational. He tries to believe his own spiel about partners, tries to push down the idea that it might be something else, something more. It's pretty easy not to think about it right now. There are bigger worries to focus on.

He is first off the plane and now he does use his badge to move to the front of the rental car line. "Official FBI business" he assures the people he displaces. They all look vaguely irritated, as does the clerk, but they do not argue, and he does not care if they like it or not. He wants to see his partner and not much else registers in his brain. It is not long, but still too long for him, before he is behind the wheel and on the phone again, trying to determine exactly where she is.

Once he knows where the paramedics took her and has used the GPS to locate the hospital, he drives borderline recklessly; too fast with lots of lane changing and weaving. He's so close now and if every minute that has passed has been an eon, then every minute left is an eternity. He cannot drive fast enough.

If not for the parking space that was miraculously open near the front of the hospital ER he probably would have dumped his rental in the ambulance bay. He has no patience for any extra time wasters and that includes the nurse who refuses to tell him where his partner is. He is not Dr. Brennan's family, and his badge does not impress her. She does not think he needs to see her. But he sees the nurse's eyes flick over to an exam room for just a second and that's enough to tell him what he needs to know. He brushes past her without a second thought and though she tries to stop him he barrels through the door.

"Bones! Are you okay?" Relief floods him at the sight of her. She's going to be alright. He's here with her now. Now he can begin to fix this. Now he can protect her.

~End~

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated._


	8. Educational Opportunity

_I have to take this opportunity to thank all of you so much for all the alerts and reviews. I usually try to respond to reviews and I have horrible guilt when I don't. I'm so, so grateful for all of you who have taken the time to leave me your thoughts on what I've written in the last chapters. I just am never going to catch up on the private thank yous no matter how much I scramble. So THANK YOU ALL. I feel awed and humbled by your reviews, as well as the alerts I have received. Please know that I appreciate you all and you have my sincere apologies for not thanking you one on one._

Total, all dialogue drabble. Just silly and fun. Inspired by a walk around my neighborhood with the kidlets.

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><p><strong>Takes place right around the start of Season 7.<strong>

"You're killing the mood."

"I'm not. I just think it's important to be accurate."

"Not always."

"It _is_ always important. Do you know how far behind our country is falling compared to the education of children in other countries? It's abysmal."

"Yes, but this isn't school. It's our neighborhood."

"Some of the best learning happens in a day to day environment and not in a classroom. There is a learning opportunity here, Booth."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because not everyone wants to be educated, Bones. And not everybody cares the way you do."

"Well, they should."

"But they don't, so just go with it, okay?"

"Can I at least explain it to Parker?"

"Later."

"He'll be too hopped up on candy to care later."

"I think you over estimate how much he'd care now."

"Booth!"

"Sorry."

"I just don't understand why it's so difficult for the décor people use for Halloween to be accurate. All of these skeletons are wrong. They all have less than 200 bones each."

"You counted?"

"I didn't have to. I can see which ones are missing. Simple subtraction."

"I think next year you should stay home and hand out candy."

"Perhaps. I think I'd like that better. It would be less upsetting."

"For everyone."

"Booth!"

"Sorry."

"That was mean."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"Which ones are missing?"

"What?"

"Which bones are missing?"

"You don't care."

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"You're just hoping to be lucky tonight."

"Get lucky, and yes, that did cross my mind, if I'm being honest. But that's not why I want to know."

"Then why do you want to know?"

"Because one of these days that baby in your belly is going to ask me why the neighborhood skeleton decorations are inaccurate and I'd better know how to have that conversation or I'll be the dumb parent."

"You really should know."

"That's what I said. So tell me."

"I will. Let's start with the one on the Lafferty's lawn."

"Let's do that."

~End~


	9. Another Time, Another Airport

_Thanks again for all the positive responses to this series. With this one, I went a little different. Special thanks to **Sunsetdreamer** who read the first incarnation that I've since ditched, **Jadedrepartee** for help with the first and half the second drafts and **RositaLG** for green lighting this final version. You've all read their fabulous work by now, haven't you?_

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><p><strong>We will put this one about 3 years from the end of Season 6<strong>

It's a day like any other day in an airport like so many others around the world. People are milling around, coming and going. Bags and suitcases are being pulled from multiple luggage carousels. Cries of "welcome back" and "I'm so glad to see you" can be heard careening through the air.

There are people standing near the carousels anxiously looking towards the escalators, eagerly awaiting the ones they love. Among these people on this day, in this airport, is a very handsome man with a little girl on his broad shoulders. No more than two years old, she's got brown piggy tails and a grin that matches her father's. She clutches his hair, holding on for dear life with one hand. In the other hand she holds a handmade sign that says "Welcome Home, Mommy!" in rainbow writing and fancy glitter. He dips and bends and gallops side to side to make her laugh and keep her entertained as he constantly casts his eyes towards the area all the arrivals must funnel through to get their luggage.

When he sees the person he is looking for, he grins, points and waves and urges his daughter to hold up her sign. She does and as she bounces with excitement the glitter from her sign rains into her father's dark hair. It is clear they have missed this woman they are waiting for.

The woman looks every bit the exhausted traveler one second before she sees them. Beautiful but tired, her trench coat hangs open off her slumped frame and she hefts her carry on bag more securely onto her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd below. But when she does see them, everything about her changes. If it's possible, she becomes prettier, a smile taking hold and her blue eyes begin dancing as merrily as the ones belonging to the piggy tailed girl with the sign. She stands a little straighter and waves and suddenly seems full of energy. What is also clear now is that she missed them, too. She reaches the bottom of the moving stairway and steps to the left to get out of the way of other disembarking passengers.

The man sets the child down and she runs with a shriek towards the woman, causing heads to turn and look in their direction. The woman, so obviously her mother even without the sign, crouches down to let the little girl fly into her arms and the force of the hug nearly knocks her backwards. The woman rocks back onto her heels and when she begins to stand, still holding the child, it seems like her heel catches in her trench coat.

Before she can fall the man is there, one arm around her waist, one steadying her at her elbow, helping her to stand without toppling. When she shifts the little girl to her hip her coat is pushed back and the soft rounding of her belly becomes apparent, pregnancy suddenly the more obvious reason for her lack of balance.

The man says something that makes the woman smile and she turns her lips up to him as he bends his head down slightly to kiss her. Despite the busy airport, despite the child on her hip, despite the pregnant belly and the bulky carry on bag between them, it is the kind of kiss that makes the watching bystanders sigh. The kind of moment everyone who has ever been picked up by a loved one at an airport wishes for. The kind of kiss where everything and everyone else fades away and all that matters is the feelings behind that kiss; both of them aware only of each other.

They break apart and smile sweetly at one another as she reaches up to brush sparkles out of her love's hair. His grin grows wider and he kisses her again, quickly this time, but no less lovingly. Then she turns her head to rain a hundred little kisses all over her daughter's face as the man gallantly takes the bag from the her arm. They walk to the carousel that is rotating the luggage from her flight, his hand in the small of her back, she still balancing the girl on her hip, the child's giggling chatter attracting more smiles from the people around them. He spies a familiar suitcase and pulls it from the rotation with little effort.

It is obvious that she is reluctant to put her little girl down, that she is reveling in holding her close. He, however, clearly insists that she should let the child walk so she gives in with an eye roll indicating fake irritation that likely comes from years of such protective behavior. Instead, they both take one of the tiny girl's hands, the daughter squarely in the middle of her parents. They grin over her head at one another and swing her up high between them and she shrieks with laughter again, causing more smiles amongst the weary travelers.

The happy, reunited family heads towards the sliding doors to exit the airport and all the bystanders that were charmed by them, or smiled at them, or just couldn't help but notice them, go back to their own lives. The hustle and bustle of the people continues on, just like any other airport in countries all over the world. The kisses and laughter and the glitter are just one scene of many that these people will observe and then forget on their trips through the airport.

Except for one.

One person in the airport will never forget this family. One person will always remember the scene that played out among those three particular people in the crowd.

"Do you know them?" Her coworker asks as he watches her watch them walking toward the airport doors.

"I used to." She answers a bit wistfully.

He shifts uncomfortably under the weight of several bags of equipment. "Are you ready?"

"Sure." She says but makes no move to leave her spot, her eyes still watching the threesome as they go out the door and begin to turn the corner.

"They look like a nice family," he offers, not certain what else to say.

"Yeah." She answers. ""Yeah, they really do."

That was the day Hannah Burley realized that she and Seeley Booth would never pick up where they had left off four years before.

That was the day she realized for sure they were over forever.

And that was the day she truly understood he'd never really been hers in the first place.

~End~

_Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear what you think._


	10. A Lie of Epic Proportions

_You guys straight up amaze me with all your kind words. Thank you all so much!_

_Thanks to RositaLG for the super quick beta._

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><p><strong>This one is takes place immediately after The Proof in the Pudding, one of my all time favorite episodes.<strong>

People sometimes forgot that Seeley Booth was not a stupid man.

In fact, he was quite intelligent. Perhaps he wasn't as smart as his people at the Jeffersonian, but then again, few people are.

He wasn't average, however. Not at all. And he knew people. He could read them. He could spot a liar nine times out of ten.

And there was one person he knew the best.

His partner.

The very partner he was ninety nine percent certain had lied to him.

He dropped her off at home after insisting he drive her to her apartment. After being up all night with Mr. White and his mysterious bones, he didn't want her behind the wheel.

"Thanks again, Bones. I mean it."

That's when he'd seen it. Something flashed through her eyes for a split second before it was replaced by a genuine smile. "You're welcome, Booth. I'm glad I could tell you what you needed to hear." She stepped out of the SUV. "Sleep well."

"You too."

But now that he was home, sleep was not on his immediate agenda.

His computer's cursor blinked at him, waiting for his first command.

He entered "Osteomyelitis" into the search engine, then clicked the first link and scribbled down all the causes of the disease: Blood clots, bone surgery, bone injury, scarlet fever, diabetes, poor circulation.

Then one by one, he entered each of those causes into the search engine along side the words "John F. Kennedy."

And came up with a winner.

President John F. Kennedy had never been diagnosed with Osteomyelitis, but he had had a terrible case of scarlet fever as a child.

She had to know that. It explained that flash in her eyes. He knew now that flash was guilt.

She'd lied for him.

Hell, she'd purposely drawn an incorrect scientific conclusion for him. She'd sacrificed her science, her own personal religion, to make him feel better.

And while it made him a bit sick to think about what Mr. White's visit really meant, what was really going on with those bones, what might actually happen within the inner workings of the American government, there was one thing he knew for sure as he sat back onto his couch and drifted off to sleep.

He'd never loved his partner more.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>


	11. Trying to Right a Wrong

_Huge thanks to all of you again for your kindnesses. Beta props to Jenlovesbones. _

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><p><strong>Set a few days after Season 6's The Bones That Weren't<strong>

There was a smallish box on her desk when she got to her office Monday morning. Having received less than lovely gifts at the lab before, her first instinct was to grab a pair of gloves. She didn't want to taint potential evidence.

Upon closer examination, however, she recognized the scribble that said "Bones" across the white tag tucked under a familiar red bow.

She set her bag down and went back to close her office door. She couldn't say why, but she wanted to be alone as she opened the box from her partner.

Taking her seat, she pulled the bow off and the tag came unstuck and flittered to the floor. She picked it up and found he'd written on the other side as well.

"Thanks" was all it said.

She was genuinely curious now and gave the box a small shake but couldn't discern anything from the sound it made. Carefully she lifted the tape that stuck down the edge of the box flap and lifted it up.

Sunglasses.

Slightly darker, but the same in every other way as her old ones.

Replacements.

And suddenly she was quite glad her door was closed.

~End~

_Thanks for reading. A penny for your thoughts!_


	12. Closing the Division

I love all of you. Your responses have been overwhelming. Thank you.

Special thanks to the lovely Laffers, who would probably argue the term "lovely" but I like alliteration so there it is.

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><p><strong>This one is immediately after The Con Man in the Meth Lab. <strong>

The knock came just after 1am.

He thought they were all talked out.

The knock told him she thought otherwise.

"I've been thinking," she swept past him like a funnel cloud of out loud thought processes. "And I have come to the conclusion that despite my best efforts earlier this evening I have been remiss."

"Bones, I was asleep and it's been a long week, so…I'm not…" he sighed, trying to figure out the best way to ask her to not speak squint as he closed his front door. "Just spell it out for me slow and easy, alright?."

She turned to face him. "The things you told me. The things about the RICO case and Jared and your father…"

"I really don't want to rehash it all right now. I'd really rather not rehash it at all, actually."

"No, that's…that's not why I'm here." She suddenly seemed a little less sure of herself, her eyes clouding over just a bit.

"Then why are you here?"

"I told you, I have been remiss."

"About what?"

"You did most of the talking."

"Well, since it was my life we were discussing, yeah. I did most of the talking."

"But I have something to say. I should have said it before but I was…"

"Remiss. Yeah. You mentioned that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Bones, it's late and…"

"I made a mistake."

He didn't answer. The Brennan freight train of thought was about to scream by whether he was ready to hear it or not, so he figured he'd just wait it out.

"I…I should never have listened to Jared. I know that now. I don't even know why I did, really. I think…I just…"

"It's okay, Bones."

"I'm sorry." She looked so genuinely defeated that he immediately felt the need to make it better for her.

"Hey, I know that. You made that great speech. I knew that was your apology."

"I have more to say."

"You really don't have to, Bones."

"What I should have said is that…families are messy. Anthropologically, through out history, there are examples of families fighting and dividing. However, when faced with a different enemy, one from outside, the family rejoins; they band together. They are stronger together as a unit than they are apart as individuals. "

"But…you told me I have to stop bailing Jared out. I mean, he's my family, but I can't save him all the time."

"I didn't mean you and Jared."

"Okay, I'm half asleep, so…"

"I meant…I meant me. You and me, specifically."

He was somewhat stunned into silence.

"You told me once that there are different kinds of families. Do you remember?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"I have blood relatives. I find them messy. The relationships are difficult for me to navigate. I don't always understand what my role is to them or theirs to me. And some days, most days, really, I like the distance between us, both emotional and geographical " She looked to the side for a moment, almost like she was pulling strength from the wall next to Booth's head. "But I find that, very much like a family, you and I are better, _stronger_, in our work and partnership when we are not divided. And when I listened to Jared, when I believed even the smallest part of what he said, I divided us."

"Bones…"

"You are not a loser. It's not who you are and I'm sorry that I let anyone make me doubt you for even a minute. You show me every day what a good man you are. And I hope you can forgive me because I don't want to be divided."

He smiled, his heart all at once swelling and beating erratically in his chest. "You know, Bones, you made that great toast and you brought me cake and you waited and listened to me while I talked. That was all I needed. But...thanks. I appreciate it."

"I just needed to be certain you knew."

"You can be certain."

"Thanks, Booth." She smiled that sweet little smile that always made her look so young and innocent to him. And suddenly he had to wonder when her apology to him became all about her. For him everything seemed to always come down to her.

"I should go." She said suddenly. "It's very late and you were asleep."

"Okay. Yeah, you should, you know, rest your arm." He motioned to the sling.

"Goodnight, Booth."

He opened the door. "Goodnight, Bones."

~End~


	13. Testing 1,2,3

Thanks for all the readings and alerts and reviews. Pushing 300 reviews is amazing and I am humbled you have all taken the time to tell me your thoughts on what I write. Thank you.

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><p><strong>This is one is either just before or in the middle of The Change in the Game, depending on your own thoughts on the timing of things.<strong>

It was something she'd never done before.

Of course, life with Booth had caused her to do many things she had never done before. Skipping out on bar tabs, attempting to use her metaphorical gut, altering potential scientific outcomes, allowing herself to feel and love deeply…

But this? This was…this was unprecedented. Huge.

Absurd. This was absurd.

Irrationally she had the urge to purchase several other items as well, so the entire point of her trip to the store wouldn't be so obvious. She looked around at the shelves: shampoo, make-up, toilet paper, pain relievers.

She nearly broke into hysterical laughter when she caught sight of the tampons.

She grabbed some mascara, some conditioner, cotton balls, some soap for Booth…

Soap for Booth. For in her home. For in her shower.

Everything had changed so much.

She picked up the innocuous looking box.

A pregnancy test.

She put it back and then picked it up again and put it in her basket. Stalling would not change the outcome.

She went to the cashier, who didn't bat an eye as he rang up her purchases. Brennan almost had to laugh again now at how little he cared when the result of that test could be monumental in her life.

When everything could change again.

She went home. She unpacked the soap and put it in the shower. She opened the cotton balls and scooped some out, placing them in their proper container. She stashed the conditioner under the sink for when she ran out and placed the mascara in the medicine cabinet for when she needed it.

And then there was nothing left to do but take the test.

The instructions were terribly simple but she read them thoroughly just the same and did as they directed.

It was supposed to take three minutes for the result to show up.

She never took her eyes off the stick and knew it had taken less than thirty seconds for the plus sign to appear.

She sat on the edge of the tub, her mind racing nearly as fast as her heart, test still in her hand.

A baby.

A _baby_.

She couldn't catalogue all that she felt. It was too much, too big and she couldn't even begin to sort through it. There was only one thing she knew for sure.

She was having a baby.

With Booth.

And suddenly the laughter that had threatened to emerge in the store aisles and at the check out lane bubbled over until it became tears. Tears of happiness and fear and overwhelming uncertainty.

"Pregnant" she whispered to the universe. "I'm pregnant."

The words were foreign on her tongue but not entirely unwelcome and she stood to look at herself in the mirror.

"I'm going to have a baby." She told her reflection.

And her reflection responded with a smile.

~End~

_Thank you so much for reading. :)_


	14. All The Wrong Words

_I'm sorry if it's repetitive to thank you all every single time, but I really do appreciate every one of you. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>The time frame on this one will explain itself. :)<strong>

She was so unhappy and there was very little he could do about it.

"My clothes don't fit. It's a month until my due date and none of my maternity clothes fit. I'm enormous and I'm only going to get bigger." She sat down, feeling defeated.

He would never have thought that she would be the type of woman who would get upset about these things, but he supposed that hormones put her on an even playing field with the mood swings of other women. Not that he would ever tell her that.

"I'm sorry, Bones."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to say. If I tell you you look gorgeous you tell me that nature has wired me to think that in an effort to keep males from straying from their mates during pregnancy. If I tell you you're not that big, you say that of course you are because you are growing a person inside of you and everything has expanded to accommodate pregnancy. If I tell you it won't be much longer now you tell me that I can't possibly know that because due dates are approximate and that it could still be another six weeks before she gets here and that six weeks is still quite a long time." He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. "So I just don't know what to tell you."

She sniffed and accepted him lacing his fingers through hers. "I like the gorgeous one."

He chuckled. "You look gorgeous, Bones."

She was quiet for just a moment, then couldn't resist. "It is a fact that nature causes you to think that. My pregnancy by you is also a reflection of your virility, making me look more attractive to you."

"That doesn't make it any less true."

"I can accept that." she said, and laid her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Booth."

"Any time, Bones. Any time."


	15. Believe

Thanks again, all you lovely, lovely readers. You make me smile.

Special thanks to RositaLG for ignoring her professor for a minute to do some quick beta work.

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><p><strong>This one is from mid to late The Santa in the Slush<strong>

He isn't really certain what possessed him to buy two Christmas trees.

Well, that isn't entirely true.

He loves Christmas. Loves it. He believes in the story of Mary and Joseph and the birth of Jesus. He believes in the magic of the lights and the gifts and Santa Claus. He believes in the idea of family being together with happy hearts on one special day per year.

He's not getting his happy day. Not really. Rebecca has decided Parker does not need to see him for Christmas and it sucks, but he can't change it. Pops is going to visit his brother and Booth's own brother, well, that's not the kind of family holiday he's looking for. No, this will not be the merriest of Christmases.

But he is who he is and along with other beliefs he does hold out hope for a Christmas miracle and so he goes to buy a tree. Just in case.

And comes home with two.

You see, he knows her. He does. He knows his partner and he doesn't really think she will fly off to that dig and leave the family she's working so hard at putting back together.

She created a plan and struck a deal to give her father the Christmas he wanted.

And she kissed him. There was mistletoe, an apparent requirement, but there was also tongue, which, as far as he knew, was not.

Temperance Brennan doesn't do anything half way.

There is no way she's going on this dig. Not today, anyway. Not on Christmas Eve. Not when not being in that trailer would only be giving her dad a "halfway" kind of Christmas.

She doesn't believe in any of the things that he does. She calls the story of the birth of the Savior "rigmarole." She doesn't get Santa and lights and fibs to small children. But he does think she's starting to understand family a little bit better, to believe in its importance.

So he has a plan. Because there is more than one kind of family and because Christmas is about giving, not receiving, and because he wants her to know a little piece of magic.

Plus he could use a little bit of magic himself.

_~End~_


	16. The Third Night

_Once again, thank you all. Beta thanks to Christy._

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><p><strong>This one is just after the 5th season finale, The Beginning in the End.<strong>

They made vague non-promises to be safe in jungles and war zones.

They made a solid pact to meet at the coffee cart in a year.

She couldn't turn around more than once or she might not have gone at all.

She made it through security.

She made it through the long flight.

She made it through the first days of introductions and set up and assignments and excitement.

She made it through the initial jet lag.

She made it through the first two nights.

But the third night…

On the third night she realized that in the grand scheme of things, a year actually was rather a lot. A year of no Booth. A year without his support and comfort and people skills and jokes and stories and help and wisdom. A year without spirited discussions and bickering. A year without learning from his point of view. A year without hearing his voice, feeling his hand on her back, without him checking up on her. A year with no knocks on the door, no midnight Thai food deliveries, no drinks at the bar, no fries at the diner.

Earlier that day there had been a snake and no Booth. There had been a joke she didn't understand and no Booth. There had been some tequila and no Booth.

And so it was the third night that Temperance Brennan cried.

~End~

_I had to. I always wondered when she first realized she might have made a mistake..._


	17. Smart Girls

_You know what I'm going to say, right? You got it! Thank you all SO MUCH! Your reviews and alerts are just incredible. You rock!_

_Thanks to Jenlovebones for the quick beta. You're awesome, even though your baseball team choices are questionable at best._

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><p><strong>This one would be during their first case, the one from the flashback in the 100th episode, The Sum in the Parts of the Whole.<strong>

Seeley Booth had always been a sucker for the smart girls.

It started in the 4th grade with Zoe Tillerman. She could spell better than anyone and even bested the 6th graders in the school spelling bee. She was blonde and wore a ponytail that spiraled down into one big curl at the end. He was in awe of her spelling and when she told him "Nice shoes" one day, he wore those shoes everyday for months.

In the 9th grade it had been Sarah Acker. Her eyes were green, her hair was the color of sunshine and she understood math better than any other girl in class. The short cheerleading skirt she wore on game days was just a bonus. For the first time he understood the power of "not getting it" and let her "tutor" him in Algebra until she started going out with a senior quarterback and young Booth had known he stood no chance.

In college he'd fallen hard for Natalie Wazo. Her yellow hair looked like silk and her eyes sparkled with an innate quick wittedness that he adored. She was fast with a joke or a sassy retort, but her views on world politics and current events were well informed and thoroughly thought out and he adored that her mind seemed to always be working. But she went head over heels for the President of the Young Republicans Club and Booth had been left to nurse his wounded heart.

And then Rebecca. With her spitfire attitude and law school smarts, he'd fallen hard for her before it all went to hell.

But there was something completely different about this anthropologist.

Different enough that he was standing in a department store looking at neckties.

"_But in any group, no matter how restrictive, the free thinkers, the mavericks, the rebels with leadership qualities find a way to declare their distinctiveness."_

He could not get her voice out of his head. Just the same way he could still hear Zoe Tillerman. _"Encyclopedia. E-N-C-Y-C-L-O-P-E-D-I-A. Encyclopedia."_

Only now it was followed by:

"…_the rebels with leadership qualities find a way to declare their distinctiveness."_

In his work, Booth liked to know why people do the things they do. Why did they kill? Why did they lie? What were their motives?

But motive was something he deliberately chose to avoid thinking about as he combed through the tie racks until he found what he was looking for. Fairly tame on the outside, a pinup girl on the inside, the tie didn't conform precisely to the dress code, but it also didn't exactly break it.

It was perfect and he couldn't wait to show her he'd gone rogue.

He chose not to think too hard about what that meant, either.

~End~

_Thanks for reading. The premier is oh-so close now! Who's excited?_


	18. 4AM

_We're at about T-Minus 70 minutes until season 7 begins on the East Coast, another 3+ hours here on the West Coast as I hit post for this piece. I fully expect everyone to ignore fic tonight, but in case you need something to pass the last bit of this crazy long hiatus, here's a little something for you._

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><p><strong>We'll say this one is maybe 8 to 10 weeks after the birth of the baby.<strong>

At 4AM she sat bolt upright and gasped, hurling herself out of bed at breakneck speed.

"Bones! What's wrong?" His heart was pounding at her obvious distress.

"Something's wrong with the baby!"

She was running to the hall and he was only a split second behind her, those flea like reflexes on high alert.

"What? Did you hear something?"

"No! But she didn't wake up for her one o'clock feeding. It's four o'clock now, Booth!" There was a panic in her voice he'd never heard before as she tore down the hallway toward the nursery.

He scrambled after her and they barreled through their daughter's doorway together.

"Wait!" he commanded gently as she reached in to pick the baby up. "Look, Bones. She's just asleep." His heart began to slow down as he watched their tiny girl breathe in and out.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh." She nodded and then turned and walked out of the room without another word.

Her odd reaction to a perfectly alright baby perplexed him and he stood frozen in place for a moment before he went chasing after her again, this time the opposite direction.

She was already in bed, back to him, when he climbed in next to her, unsure of what was going through that brilliant mind of hers.

Until he felt a gentle shaking of the bed and he knew she was silently crying next to him.

"Hey." He rolled to her side of the bed. "What's going on?" He kept his voice low and soft as he wrapped her up in his arms, her back to his chest.

"I was so scared. At some point, she will learn to sleep through the night. My reaction was irrational. While there is always a chance that something is wrong, the odds were in favor of everything being fine…"

'But?"

"Even knowing that I…I can think of very few times when I was as frightened as I was when I woke up and realized I hadn't heard her. I thought terrible things."

"That's not being irrational. That's being her mother."

"And now I find I'm so relieved that I'm crying. My reactions are exaggerated and absurd."

"Again, just being her mother."

She was silent for a moment. "Does it ever go away?"

"What?"

"The over reacting. Does it ever go away?"

They had promised each other honesty and trust. He had no choice. "No."

"That's what I thought."

"But it gets easier. You'll relax a little. So will I. You learn to temper it, but no, it doesn't go away."

"So…I have to learn to live with the irrational in exchange for the life I have now." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, Bones. I guess so."

She snuggled back into him but said nothing, the silence stretching out until Booth could no longer fight sleep and his eyelids began to droop. It was only then that she said:

"I find that to be a fair exchange."

~End~

_Enjoy the premier, Everyone!_


	19. Slow Burn

_So for those who saw it, did you love the premier? I think slogging patiently through season 6 (at least I felt like I was slogging) really paid off with the first episode of season 7._

_ Thank you all again for your alerts and reviews. They really do mean a lot to me. _

_Beta thanks to the amazing RositaLG, who is always ever so willing to help me out. Thanks, darling. *cupcakes*_

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><p><strong>Post Mayhem on a Cross<strong>

Watching her, a rage ripped through him unlike almost anything he'd ever felt before.

The scene in front of him would be ordinary by anyone else's standards. Average. Every day. Nothing special at all.

And yet he wanted to kill someone.

She could feel him taking in her every move. She pulled another soapy dish from the water and wiped it with a sponge, then rinsed it carefully in the hot water.

Very, very carefully.

"Bones…"

"I don't want to talk about it." She put the dish in the other side of the sink and picked up another soapy one, refusing to meet his gaze.

It had seemed only fair that they would do the clean-up since Gordon Gordon had done the cooking. And Sweets needed to get back to his office to retrieve his car, so sharing a cab back that way with Gordon Gordon made sense.

Which left the two of them. Alone. Doing dishes.

Her confession from earlier that night hung in the air like the steam from the scalding water.

He took two steps toward her. "You know…"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." This time she turned to look at him, one suds covered hand hanging over the sink, one dripping onto the mat on the floor, her eyes deadly serious. "Do you?" She asked pointedly.

He blinked. He's been doing such a slow burn over what she'd divulged he'd nearly forgotten his own confession.

He considered his choices as she continued the stare down. It was clear to him that even if he did share what he'd meant, even if he did tell her just exactly how Pops had saved him from death, she was not ready to say more about what had happened to her than she already had.

He wanted to know. He wanted to comfort her. And maybe he even wanted to imagine exacting revenge on her behalf. But he also didn't want to talk about his past.

He closed the distance between them, invading her space, standing nearly toe to toe, nose to nose. Slowly, he reached behind her, leaning in even closer, and took a dishtowel off the counter.

"I'll dry."

_~End~_


	20. Alone Together

_A/N-Thank you all for your kindnesses. Thank you, Jenn, for your quick read through and encouragement. Thank you, twitter, for all my girls. You know who you are._

**If you haven't seen Season 7's 2nd episode, stop now unless you don't care about being spoiled. It was missing something for me. Perhaps for you too. If so, I hope this helps.**

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><p><strong>Post The Hot Dog in the Competition<strong>

"The thing you said? What she has of mine? What was it?" They were lying in bed now, hours later, nearly nose to nose.

These were her favorite moments…the ones where it really was just them. Phones weren't ringing, texts weren't buzzing, no intern interruptions. There weren't extraneous people or invasive background noises save the quiet ticking of the clock. It was just quiet and them. And she loved that.

"The prominent mental protuberance?" She spoke lowly, almost a whisper.

"Yeah." He was quiet, too, the air around them calling for an intimate tone. "The more I think about it the more it sounds like she has a big head, which would be very bad for you." He joked as he absently stroked her thigh with his fingertips.

She smiled and touched his chin with one finger. "This. She has your chin."

"Really?" He couldn't help but grin happily.

"Yes." She trailed her finger from his chin to his jaw line, down his neck and to his bare chest, where she put her hand to feel his heart beating beneath it.

"That's amazing."

"That's biology."

"Then biology is amazing."

She couldn't argue with that.

_~End~_


	21. A Dream Come True

_Sorry! "Moments" has suffered a bit in favor of "Spiral." Here's a little something I just couldn't pass up. Thank you all again for all your reviews and alerts! :)_

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><p><strong>We'll say this one takes place about 5 and a half years from the beginning of Season 7.<strong>

He took the scene in like he often did when it had gone unnoticed that he'd come home.

They were sitting side by side, heads bent over the table in concentration. One in a pony tail, one with two perfect piggy tails, probably doing homework.

He couldn't hear them, partially because they spoke lowly, but also because he maintained enough distance to remain undetected.

It never ceased to amaze him, this vision of his partner and her tiny carbon copy. Although he could only see the back of them, he could easily imagine the identical furrow in their brows, their daughter with the Booth habit of sticking out her tongue when she was concentrating. He knew his little girl would be trying super hard to get it right, whatever "it" was and that her mother would have endless patience for her child's efforts.

Suddenly the five year old squealed with glee and clapped her hands as Brennan sat upright, peeling off her gloves. He could see from her profile that she was pleased and proud. "Very good, Hadley," she offered, cupping her little girl's cheek.

"What's going on over there?" He asked, finally.

"Daddy!" Hadley tore off her gloves and flew from the table over to him and jumped, forcing him to catch her and bring her up to his level for a hug.

"Hi Princess!"

"I'm not a princess. I'm a scientist."

"You are?"

"Yes. Mommy and I just dissected a frog."

He couldn't help but grin. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. It was so cool!"

"I bet, my little Super Squint."

"Hadley, even though we wore gloves, please go wash your hands." Brennan joined them in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Okay!" She wiggled in her dad's arms so he put her down and she scampered off.

"Was it everything you always dreamed?" He teased his partner gently just after he kissed her hello.

"She was quite skilled at it for her first time. She showed interest and knowledge well beyond her age and seems to have a keen awareness of biology in general."

"But was it as great as you always imagined?"

She smiled. "It really was."

_~End~_


	22. Tradition

_Thanks for the quick read through, jadedrepartee! Thank you all for reading and commenting. You rock!_

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><p><em><em>**This one takes place maybe a year or two after their daughter is born.**

"Did you forget to walk the dog?" Brennan looked up as Booth walked by her with his heaviest winter coat and boots in his hands, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. She glanced at the clock on her laptop. " It's nearly 1AM, Booth. Just let her out in the backyard and be sure to scoop up the excrement."

"Nah. I walked her earlier."

"Then what are you doing? I thought you were in bed already."

"I was, but… I noticed earlier that the pond is totally frozen, so…"

She smiled the smallest of smiles. "Ah."

"Is it a bad idea? He has school tomorrow…"

"Parker will love it. Just like you did."

"You think?" The eager look on his face reminded her of a little boy.

"Of course."

"Rebecca will flip."

"It's just this one time."

"When she's older, I'll take Hadley."

"I'm sure you will. And she'll love it, too."

He kissed her quickly and went up the stairs to wake his son.

_~End~_


	23. Repeat the Past

_Here's a different kind of Moment for you. Special thanks to Sunsetdreamer and Baileyjane for their feedback and beta work._

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><p><strong>No time frame on this one. It's a draw your own conclusion kind of thing.<strong>

"Do you love him?" Brown eyes questioned blue, the hurt and confusion in his gaze mirrored in hers.

"Yes." She looked down at her bare toes in the sand, wishing they were having this conversation anywhere but at the beach they'd loved so much when they were together.

"I guess all I can say is congratulations, then."

"You aren't happy for me." She noted.

"All I've ever wanted is for _you_ to be happy."

"You wanted to be the one to make me happy, once."

"I was that guy for a while, wasn't I? Weren't we happy?"

She looked at him now and there were tears on her cheeks that he hadn't expected. "We were. We were happy for a long time. Years."

"What happened to us?" He whispered, tearing up as well, doing his best not to look at the sparkling diamond that newly adorned her left hand.

"I don't know. I was too logical for you, you were too romantic for me…how we saw the world…it just didn't mesh."

"I don't think that's true. I don't believe that." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"We failed. We tried and we failed and we ruined what we had in the first place."

"We're still friends." But even he knew that wasn't totally true.

"Not like before. It…it can never be like it was before we became romantically involved." She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "We had a few years of romance and it ruined a lifetime of friendship and we can't go back."

He nodded and leaned against the stone half wall behind him in defeat. "And Jeff? He's a good guy?"

"If we were truly friends you'd know that he is."

"And you love him?"

"You already asked me that."

"I want to hear you say it again."

"Why?"

"Because I don't believe it." He said flatly.

"I agreed to marry him!" She cried.

"But I don't think you love him." He lost it a little, his voice escalating.

"I told you that I do! Why…why are you doing this?" She was sobbing, her logical brain becoming overloaded in the emotional conversation.

"You are standing there crying about you and me instead of being happy about getting engaged. It's backwards!"

"I'm upset that you can't just be happy for me! That you don't know anything about me anymore! That we aren't friends like we used to be!"

"I don't want to be friends!" He blurted and the pain that crossed her face was like he'd slapped her.

"Wha….I…"

"God, Hadley. I love you. I _love_ you. So much that it kills me."

"Michael…"

"And I think you love me too. I think it scares you, even now. I pushed. I get it. But how you can marry this guy and not me… I…" He looked to the stars above like there were answers there. "Why?"

"I don't know!" She struggled to explain. "It's easier with him. It's not…he's not everything!"

"And I was? Is that it?"

"_Yes! _You were… you were everything. And I couldn't…it was too much."

"The person you marry is supposed to be everything. That's how it works. That person is supposed to be your world."

"You sound like your mother." She pointed out bitterly.

"And you sound like yours." His tone was more gentle now. "But, even your mother would tell you that you shouldn't marry this guy if you don't love him." He was pleading with her.

"What am I supposed to do? Marry you instead? I said yes to him…"

"Unsay it."

"Michael…"

"Be with me, Hadley. Let's try this again."

"I…"

"Do you still love me?"

She looked at him. Really, really looked at him. And everything became clear.

All the times in life where she was happiest; in her tree house, in karate class when she was eight, in 7th grade study hall, in her high school biology lab, when she passed her driver's test, when she'd gotten accepted at Harvard, and then at Yale, when she'd graduated from Stanford, when she'd gotten her job at the Jeffersonian…Michael Hodgins had been there, making the good things better.

And all the times when she'd hurt; when her leg was broken in the 2nd grade, when she got a B in Creative Writing, when her first date stood her up, when her first boyfriend broke her heart, when her grandfather Max had died…Michael had made it all easier.

As overwhelming as it was to love him in that way, life without him had been so much harder.

"Yes." She admitted through tears. "I do. I…I still love you."

"Then let's do this. You and me. On your terms. Marriage, no marriage, I don't care. But let's be together." He stepped closer to her, taking her hand.

"I…"

"You know as well as I do that you can't marry him."

"I do care for him."

"I know."

"It's not the same, though. You…we…."

"We're everything."

She nodded. "I thought I could get past you."

"Everything isn't something you can get past." He tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "So…" He left the question unasked.

"I've missed you. I want…I want to be _us_ again." She tilted her head to the side, a habit she'd inherited. "I'm sorry it took this to get us here. But I think…I think it's good, right?"

His heart soared. "Us being together? That's better than good, Baby." He'd inherited a few traits, too.

"I have to speak with Jeff first. I owe him that much."

"Okay." Her honesty was something he'd always loved about her.

"But…"

"But?"

"You could kiss me." She said, surprising him.

"Yeah?" His smile seemed to light up the night sky.

"I think that would be an appropriate response to my agreement to be together."

He laughed. God, he'd missed her. He pulled her close and kissed her sweetly.

She sighed into his mouth and kissed him back.

It was like coming home.

And everything was right again.

_~End~_

_Did you really think I would mess with B&B? Come on, now! Have you met me?_


	24. Closure

_Thanks to Baileyjane for the beta work._

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><p><strong>This one takes place after The Bullet in the Brain.<strong>

For this particular service, the funeral director hadn't expected many people. Per instructions, he'd set the service and viewing for a two hour block. All the chairs were in neat rows, there were the obligatory flowers from the funeral home and the closed coffin had a small spray that came with the package the client had paid for.

There were no mourners, there were no other flowers and the director was not surprised.

At ten minutes after the hour a woman slipped through the doors. Her eyes swept the room, but registered no surprise at the lack of attendance. She didn't approach the coffin, didn't take a program or a Kleenex and she sat quietly in a chair in the furthest row back, to the right of the doors. She was unreadable, something the director wasn't used to in his line of work and he wondered who she was to the deceased.

She remained the only guest for another forty minutes until a man entered the room. Like the woman, he did not take a program or approach the coffin, and though every seat in the place was empty, save one, he chose a chair right next to her. Together, they sat in silence for a long time.

It was the man who finally spoke first.

"I find it weirdly ironic that they are going to bury her."

She closed her eyes against the thought and gave a near silent half laugh. "I've been here a while. Not one person has come. No family or friends... no one loved her. Maybe that's why she became who she was."

"If you have no one to answer to, it's easy to justify all the ways you think the world owes you." The man hypothesized.

"Maybe."

"Or maybe she was just born evil and drove them all away."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Why are you here?"

"Closure, I guess." He gave a small shrug. "I guess I just had to see it through to the end. I mean, I know her head got blown off, but I just needed to be here." He looked at her sideways. "You?"

"I…don't know."

He nodded. "Angie doesn't know I'm here. I don't think she'd get it." He looked at her again out of the corners of his eyes. "Did you tell Booth you were coming?"

"Booth and I are not a couple."

"Right." He looked down at his knees, as if he wished he didn't have to agree.

"She's really dead." She looked pointedly at the coffin, routing the conversation back to the reason they were there.

"Yeah and it might be wrong, but I'm glad about that."

"Sweets would say it's a coping mechanism."

"Whatever. It's how I feel."

"I find that I am…relieved."

The man stood and held his hand out to the woman. "I say we don't give her one more second of our time."

She hesitated a moment, then took his hand and stood.

They looked at each other now, the smallest of smiles passing between them, and he squeezed her hand briefly before letting go.

It was fitting that they finally left the hell they'd been in the same way that they'd entered into it.

Together.

_~End~_


	25. Not a Chance

_Thanks JMHaughey for the read through!_

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><p><strong>This one is post The Princess and the Pear<strong>

She really hadn't expected to be eating alone.

Maybe she was naïve. Maybe she was just hopeful. Maybe she though that their working relationship was so important to them that they'd never cross that line.

But then she went and made him chili.

It was stupid of her. So stupid. Because there they were, of course, decidedly un-partner like. Brennan was fixing Booth's back, standing right behind him, pressed against him, the way "just partners" don't stand.

She knew that Brennan didn't know why Booth was "needlessly protective," but she wondered if Brennan realized all the ways she took care of Booth: trying to fix his back, telling him to take his meds, advising him to stay home.

She also wondered what Booth allowed himself to know. Vicodin being the great equalizer, he'd let slip some of his inner thoughts. She knew that if he'd been able, he'd have thoroughly dressed her down for sending Brennan out with Sweets. He'd have been harsh and over protective had he not been doped to the gills and admitting his partner's hair was pretty and her skin was soft.

Still, she had thought maybe it could work. She'd seen the signs and chosen to ignore them. She'd heard the "just partners" talk and thought it might just work to her advantage. She hoped there was enough denial between the partners that maybe she stood a chance with Booth.

She brought him chili.

And it was quickly obvious that she stood no chance at all.

So, Agent Perotta ate left over chili at home alone and wondered just how many people knew what she did:

That Booth and Brennan would never be "just" anything.


	26. Sidewalk Secrets

**This one is just after The Change in the Game.**

Secrets be damned.

That was his last thought before he thoroughly kissed her on the sidewalk for all the world to see.

She kissed him back and he knew that, for this moment at least, she didn't care about keeping their relationship secret, either. There were more important things, now.

He broke the kiss, leaned his head forehead against hers. "Tell me again." He said, giddily.

She laughed the most amazing laugh he'd ever heard and indulged him sweetly. "I'm pregnant."

"We're gonna have a baby." He was incredulous, wondrous, dumbstruck, awed.

And unbelievably in love with this woman in his arms.

"Yes. We're going to have a baby."

"You're having my baby." He pulled back to look at her.

"Our baby. Yes. I am."

"I…I don't have any words for how amazing this is."

He saw a brief flicker of hesitation cross her face. "You're really happy?"

"In my life, I have never been happier than I am right now. Ever."

"It's so soon for us."

"Bones, you and me? We've been through more things in seven years than most people go through in a lifetime. By my count, for us, we're right on time."

"That's very interesting math." She told him.

"Not math. Bigger than math."

"Fate?" Her mouth quirked, almost as if it hurt a little to say it.

"You got it, Baby."

She laughed again, feeling absurdly tolerant of his little boy like glee.

He took at deep breath and grinned. "One more time."

"I'm pregnant. You're the father. We're…" A hiccup of a happy sob escaped her lips. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yeah we are." He grinned and he leaned in to kiss her again.

She met him halfway.

Secrets be damned.


	27. Freak Out

_You guys!_ Your response to the last "Moment" was overwhelming. Thank you so, so much.

Thanks this time around to RositaLG. Cupcakes for the read through!

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><p><strong>This one takes place in that time we didn't see, between Seasons 6 and 7<strong>

It was an ordinary Saturday. The rain was coating the windows, making everything outside look distorted and the tick, tick, tick of the drops on the glass draped them both in a peaceful, cozy feeling as they lazed the day away together on his couch. He sat facing the television, she sat sideways, legs draped over his lap. The perfect, peaceful weekend afternoon.

She was working on her latest novel, staring intently at the laptop screen and though he was pretending to watch a football game, he was really watching her. He watched as she stopped and tilted her head to the side, thinking, and then typed on when she knew how she wanted to phrase something. He watched as she got a crease at the bridge of her nose when she went back and read something she'd written that she didn't like. He watched as her hand unconsciously rested on her stomach every now and then. Their baby was not yet big enough to register a flutter, but it awed him, the connection she already had with their child.

Everything about his partner awed him.

"What?" She caught him and quirked her eyebrow suspiciously.

"What, what?"

"You were staring at me."

"Yeah. I was."

"Did you need something?"

He took a deep breath and felt a rush of truth and courage that needed to be let out. "Yeah, I kind of do need to tell you something, but, uh, you're going to freak out when I do."

"Freak out." She said flatly. A statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"I don't really do that."

"Well, no, not in the way that most people freak out."

"So you think I do freak out?"

"Yeah, you know, you…you go still. You get all thinky."

"Thinky is not a word."

"And still it's accurate."

"I get thinky."

"Yeah, you know all quiet and internal. You process."

"Process _is_ a word."

"Fine. You freak out by going quiet and processing."

"What's wrong with thinking about things?"

"Nothing. It's how you deal."

"And you are about to tell me something that needs to be dealt with?"

He blew out a breath. "I think it will be for you so, yeah."

She was nervous now. Setting her laptop aside onto the floor, she lifted her legs out of his lap, and tucked them in beside her, trying to prepare. "Okay. Tell me."

"I just…before I say it I should say that I want you to be thinky about this. I'm not saying it so you will answer me. I don't even want an answer, really. I'm fine if you don't answer. I prefer it, actually, so that that when you answer, you've really, really processed it and you're sure it's wh-"

She cut him off. "You're rambling."

"I love you."

She blinked, but said nothing, so he kept going.

"I love you. Like, a lot." He took a deep breath and sped through the rest of his thoughts. "Like, have this baby, raise it a while, maybe have another, grow old, retire, play with our grandkids and spend the rest of my life with you, love you. And I know, it's never, ever going to change. It's gotten stronger, every day, for as long as I've known you and I have no reason to think that will ever stop."

"You love me." She said.

"Yes. More than I even imagined I could."

"Booth…"

"It's okay. It's okay. I don't expect you to say it back. You will, when you're ready and it will the best thing I will ever hear, but only if-"

"I love you, too" She interrupted.

His mouth was left hanging open, words escaping him. Of all the outcomes he had anticipated (and hoped for) this was just about the last one he'd imagined would come true.

"Did…did you hear me?" She faltered a little, surprised by his total lack of reaction.

"I'm, uh…I'm"

"Processing?"

"Maybe a little."

She smiled. "While I have never been able to say that I understood love or what it meant to be in love, I find that they way I feel about you…the way you make me feel…it's new to me. I've never felt this way before. It's…happiness in a way that I've never experienced. You are important in a way that no one else has ever been. And while neither of us can know the future, I know how I feel right now and I can only come to the conclusion that it is, in fact, what most people call love."

"You love me?"

"Yes. I believe that I do."

"Wow... I…wow."

She smiled. "Which one of us is freaking out, again?"

He pounced across the couch in an instant, coming nose to nose with her. His heart pounding in his chest as he met her eyes. " It's not me."

"Well, it certainly not me, either." She gave him that sassy, sexy, crooked grin he adored so much.

And they found a new way to pass the afternoon together.


	28. Possibility

Thanks for the beta work, nattylovesjordy!

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><p><strong>Set mid first case, as seen in the 100th.<strong>

She tasted like tequila and possibility.

Standing there, in the rain, still not entirely certain what had just happened, all he could think was that she tasted like tequila and possibility.

The sign flickered "POOL." A different kind of possibility. One that he suddenly didn't need as much anymore.

This woman…this brilliant, beautiful, sexy, literal, strong, feisty, fact spouting, bang drinking, ponytail wearing _squint _had just kissed him…and then walked away.

He didn't know what any of it meant. He didn't care.

All he knew, right then?

She'd tasted like tequila and possibility.

And that taste would have to be enough.

For now.

**B&B**

He tasted like tequila and possibility.

Soaking wet in the cab, still not entirely certain what had just happened, all she could think was that he tasted like tequila and possibility.

The meter clicked over, measuring her fare home. A safer kind of possibility. One that she suddenly needed more than ever.

This man…this smart, handsome, sexy, caring, kind, patient, fate believing, tequila drinking, rogue tie wearing, _alpha male_ had just kissed her…and she'd had to walk away.

She didn't know what any of it meant. She didn't care.

All she knew, right then?

He'd tasted like tequila and possibility.

And that taste would have to be enough.

Forever.


	29. Calculated Risk

_So, I've not been good about keeping these updated. I'm sorry about that. The good news (at least, I hope you think it's good news) is that I have been working on a new multi-chap that I will start posting this coming Monday! But I couldn't let the premier come without at least one more little Moment, right? Right! And I hope to keep writing these more often now that the big fic is finished and ready to go._

_Thanks for the beta read, RositaLG. _

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><p>The time frame for this one is post mighty hut, pre-birth.<p>

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><p>He could see the storm in her eyes the minute she came through the door.<p>

"_Dammit," _he thought, cursing himself for not insisting he go with her to dinner with her father. "Hey, Bones. Did you have a nice time?" He kept his tone casual, light, knowing she'd tell him when she was good and ready.

She sat down heavily on the couch beside him, one hand on her eight month pregnant stomach. "Do you think that our child was a mistake?"

"What?" God, he hated her father sometimes.

"I was telling my father about the house. About the renovations and the nursery plans and he said…he said 'That baby is the most wonderful mistake you and Booth will ever make.'" She looked down and softly rubbed her belly. "Do other people think that, too? That she's a mistake?"

He blew out a deep breath. "Well, you know, Bones, people…when they look at us, what they see is that there was barely an us," he motioned one hand between the two of them, "before there was an _us._" He put his hand protectively over hers, over their baby. "It was fast. Probably a lot faster than anyone would have ever expected."

"So…they do think that." She met his eyes. "But do you?"

One day he would have to kill Max Keenan. That much was clear.

"No, of course not." He paused, trying to find the right words to say. "When you are a gambler, the thing you have to know is that you should always gamble smart. Be aware of the game, know what you have in your hand, and know what the outcome could be for you win or lose. Then place the bet if, win or lose, you'll be okay."

"I don't understand. "

"I'm a smart guy. I know how babies are made. But, baby or no baby? I'd already won. I was with you. Anything beyond that was a bonus prize. I could not lose."

"But…with Parker it was always so difficult and there were so many things that you hated about not getting to be a full time father. Why would you be willing to risk that again?"

"After seven years, Bones, I already knew right then there was nothing part time about us."

She nodded, lost in thought.

"What about you?" He searched her expression. "Why'd you throw your caution to the wind?"

"Statistics have shown that a woman's chance of pregnancy per ovulatory cycle is only between 15 and 25 percent and that's only if all other variables line up correctly. Those were…" she tilted her head to the side, "acceptable odds to me."

"Really?"

"Well, like you, either way?" She shrugged. "The outcome didn't seem so bad. It was a…calculated risk."

"There you go. Not a mistake. A calculated risk."

"That's much better than a gambling analogy, Booth."

"Well it was that or the fate argument, which I knew I couldn't win."

She smiled. "That's true."

"There is nothing accidental about our daughter, Bones. Not one thing. This is how it was supposed to go."

"That sounds an awful lot like fate. I thought you'd given up on that."

"Never." He smiled. "I believe in it, 100 percent." She leaned against his chest as he put his arm around her. "What did you say to your dad when he said that?"

"I told him he'd better not say that ever again. Then I left in the middle of dessert." She pouted a little. "I…I may also have said something about her being meant to be."

"Seriously?" He grinned.

"Pregnancy can make a woman say irrational things, Booth."

"I guess so."

But secretly they both knew better.

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><p><em>Enjoy the premier!<em>


	30. The Answer

_Thanks for the beta work, Jena!_

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><p><strong>This one is from the end of The Dwarf in the Dirt.<strong>

Twelve shots.

Everything will change with the next twelve shots.

If he doesn't recertify as a marksman his entire career will be rerouted. Who he's been, who he's always wanted to be, will be over.

If he does recertify, he will have to face the truth in what the English psychiatrist-turned-chef has told him.

He's built his life around his partner.

He's known, of course, for a while, but he's been trying to do things her way. Stuff it down, ignore it, pretend it doesn't exist.

And while that kind of compartmentalizing seems to work spectacularly for her, he, apparently, can't fire his gun well, anymore.

He's not even going to think about the metaphor, there.

Either way, the next twelve shots hold some of the answers.

He knows she's watching. He asked her to come. He thinks (and even hopes) that Gordon Gordon is right; that if she is there, he will be successful. He picked her up, they rode in together. She told him that afterwards they will celebrate with breakfast at the diner. There doesn't seem to be any doubt in her mind that he can do this.

He will not fail her. Not now.

Not ever.

He takes a breath, raises his gun and fires the first six shots.

Another breath, another clip, and he does it again.

Perfect.

He turns to see her thumbs up signal to him and as hard as his heart was beating earlier, it is louder and faster in his ears now.

Because he has an answer.

It's her.

She's the answer.

And he wonders how long he can keep pretending that she isn't.

~End~


	31. Drive

A/N- For the record, I loved the season 7 finale. If you are not of like mind, perhaps you won't like this. I'm not up for debating it, and I don't want my squee harshed if you had issues with it. Just know that I adored it, agreed with Brennan's choices as they were presented and I won't budge from that. :) Thanks Jena and Jaime for the help.

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><p><strong>Post The Past in the Present<strong>

Her father had said to drive as far as she could without getting exhausted.

If she measured it that way, she'd never have gotten in the driver's seat. She'd been beyond exhaustion before she'd even left the front of the church.

She could push it aside , though. For her family. Because even though they were no longer physically intact or emotionally whole, they were all still alive.

For now.

It had to stay that way. She would not leave them forever. She would not allow her little girl to grow up in a world where evil won and left her a motherless life. She would not allow Booth to have all he said he'd ever wanted, only to have it stolen with no chance of return.

It wasn't about what her death meant for her.

It was about what her death would mean for them.

This way, as awful as it was, they still had a chance at the forever Booth wanted.

At the forever he'd taught her to believe in.

The forever she wanted, too.

All she could do was drive.

Drive until there was no chance the arrest warrant hadn't been issued.

Drive until there was no chance Booth wasn't being questioned.

Drive until there was no chance her home wasn't being searched.

Drive until there was no chance her friends weren't being interrogated.

Drive until there was no chance the lab wasn't being watched.

Drive until there was no chance the phones hadn't been bugged.

Drive until the worst thing she'd ever had to do would only get worse if she tried to undo it.

Just drive.


	32. Recognition

_**A/N**- Though Booth says he "knew. Right from the beginning," I tend to believe ol' Boothy Boy's romantic, hopeful heart was running away with him right then. There was a pull from the beginning, no doubt, but when did he realize it was more than that? Truth be told, I don't know. There are arguments of all kinds floating around the fandom. For fun, I put it here, not because I 100% believe it to be the case, but it's one scenario I can argue for. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Post Two Bodies in the Lab<strong>

He stayed very still as her eyes began to blink closed at longer intervals. He focused on the TV, mounted up in the corner of the room, only shifting his eyes now and then to watch her fight exhaustion.

She'd leaned against him when she'd first come back and he'd winced at the pain. She'd been regretful, but not as regretful as he'd been when she'd sat back up.

He found he liked being the guy she leaned on.

And if he were honest, he meant more than physically.

She lost her battle against sleep and then he dared to look at her.

She was so pretty, dressed for a date she'd skipped because her head hurt. The guilt that came with knowing he'd failed to protect her from that was sharp and stabbing. When he thought about how close he'd been to being too late he felt sick and had to reel back and think of something else before the nausea and the pudding in his stomach became a bad combination.

But she was tough. She'd done her best to kick Kenton's ass and had nearly succeeded. He had to admire that. Kenton, even aside from the bullet wound, had taken a decent beating.

She was smart. So damn smart that every time she opened her mouth he was amazed, even if he wasn't sure what the hell she was talking about. Even when her brain got her in trouble. Sometimes that mouth of hers was trouble, too. Still, there was something about that squint speak that filled him with a combination of pride and awe.

He'd never met anyone like her.

The chill that had run through him when Hodgins first showed up…he'd never experienced anything like that before. The thought that something was wrong, that something had happened to his partner, put a fear into him that was unlike any other.

Until she actually was in trouble. Then his heart pounded against his rib cage and he couldn't breathe right…and it had nothing to do with his injuries. And the relief he'd felt when he'd held her was new and unexpected. The need to comfort her had been overwhelming and the words he'd uttered: "It's all over," had been to reassure himself, as much as her.

Something washed over him as she took a deep breath in her seat and her eyes fluttered open, her blue eyes catching his gaze.

Just for a second he couldn't breathe…again.

And he knew.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath.

"Is something wrong?" She sounded alarmed.

"Maybe."

"What? Do you need a doctor?" She was halfway out of her chair, ready to get help.

"No, just… just time. I think time will take care of it." It sounded wrong even as he said it.

"Time has a way of making things better." She resettled, leaning onto the bed once again.

This time, he didn't protest. " Yeah, well, we'll see about that."


	33. Promise

_Since I did a Post S7 finale Brennan Moment, I felt I should do one for Booth, too. Again, I loved the finale, understand and agree with Brennan's choice and my heart broke for both members of our favorite team._

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><p><strong>Post The Past in the Present<strong>

He promises himself he will not cry.

It is really a promise to her.

To both of them.

He will do what she has faith in him to do. He will have the strength to forge ahead and find a way to bring them home.

They have always taken turns being strong when things got rough.

Now they both have to be strong.

Apart.

He does not have her to prop him up.

She does not have him to hold her tight.

He knows what she did took every ounce of resolve that she had. He knows that she is hurting. He has no doubt that taking their daughter and leaving him behind, duping him the way she had to, is killing her inside.

In much the same way he feels like he is dying.

And though he understands the whys of it all, everything hurts. His eyes are burning from exhaustion. His head is pounding. The ache in his chest is one of indescribable anguish.

He isn't sure how long he sat on the church steps and has no idea how long he drove around aimlessly with the empty baby carrier mocking him from the back seat.

It is pitch dark when he arrives home, but, aside from the two agents parked just down the street, it is clear the FBI has come and gone. A copy of the search warrant that has clearly been executed is laying on the kitchen table. Things are not where they should be. Drawers are half open, the area rug is askew, the pantry door is ajar.

The arrest warrant has undoubtedly been issued by now.

He does not close the open drawers or straighten the rug or shut the pantry door. It seems fitting that all these things are wrong; that it's all a mess.

His whole life is wrong right now. Their whole life has become a mess.

The phone in his pocket has been ringing fairly regularly. It's been Flynn every time, except once, when it was Cam.

But if he can't talk to his partner, he doesn't want to talk to anybody. He has nothing to say to anyone right now.

A different ring suddenly shatters the silence in the house. The home phone this time, and he hears Brennan's voice fill the air.

"_You have reached 555-9447. Please leave a message. Thank you."_

It is enough to make him cry, but it is Flynn, of all people, who saves him from breaking his promise.

"_Booth. I know you're there. You need to pick up the damn phone and call me."_

He realizes that Flynn is using the very last ounce of professional courtesy he has and that it will not last much longer. It probably won't even last the night.

He wonders if they know she has fled.

If they don't, he will not be the one to tell them.

Making his way upstairs, he does not stop to straighten the crooked picture frame on the landing or to close the door to his son's messy room. It is a brief but amusing thought that the agents would have had to struggle find anything in Parker's room, even if there had been something there to use against them.

Which there wasn't.

He will not sleep, that much he knows for certain, yet he does not have the energy to do anything else, either, so he heads down the hall.

He's not entirely sure how he ends up in the nursery, staring at the empty crib, but that ache in his chest is tighter now, the stinging in his eyes a little bit harsher.

He will not cry.

Instead he reaches for the mobile, actively deciding _not_ to think about how he is going to explain all of this to Parker, and turns the motor on.

The music is soft and if he listens carefully he can almost hear Christine's merry gurgle. It is a sound he has committed to memory, to heart, since the first day he heard it, but it doesn't bring him the comfort he is hoping for.

He doesn't think anything will.

Leaving his daughter's room, he goes to his-_theirs-_ and finds no solace in Brennan's shoes by the chair or her earrings on the dresser. She will not be back to wear them anytime soon, but he already knows he will leave them there until she is.

He strips down to his boxers and undershirt, with no desire to put any effort into finding real pajamas. The bed holds no invitation for him. Without her, it is not somewhere he wants to be.

But then…

He spots the baby monitor on her nightstand and the bed suddenly becomes the only option for him.

Turning the monitor on, he climbs into bed, not on his side, but on hers. Her pillow smells of her shampoo, _of her_, and the music tinkles softly over the speaker and if he closes his eyes he can remember how many nights he and Brennan lay wrapped up in each other, listening to the music over the monitor. Listening to their daughter coo at the spinning, artistic efforts of her brother.

He can almost pretend everything is okay.

Almost.

He can't breathe well, now. That ache in his chest is the tightest it's been and his eyes are no longer stinging so much as they are burning.

He gives himself this one night. This one night to let it all wash over him. This one night to feel the crippling anguish. This one night to wish everything was different.

Tomorrow he will fight.

He will fight for her. For their daughter. For their family. For her reputation. For the truth.

He will fight for their life together.

Tonight, though, he just allows the crushing pain to engulf him.

But he will not cry.

_~End~_


	34. The Realization in the Rennovation

This little Moment is brought to you by Frankie707's birthday! Her request was a B&B moment while Booth works on the Mighty Hut. I hope this is what you wanted, my friend. Have a wonderful birthday!

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><p><strong>This one takes place sometime during the renovation of The Mighty Hut.<strong>

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><p>He's kept her away from the house all week and although she has been pretending to keep her curiosity in check, it's been driving her crazy. He keeps telling her he wants her to be surprised by the progress he's made and she suspects that he's been working hard on the nursery. He's mentioned several times how he wants to have it finished before the baby arrives.<p>

There are other rooms she would prefer be finished first, because she doesn't think the baby will go straight into her own room. Although it is unlike her to be so sentimental, Brennan can't imagine that much space between her and her child. Not at first. It's too much, too far. If she uses logic she can excuse these feelings, cover them with practicality. Nursing at night will be easier if the baby is close, she will know better if something is wrong if the baby is in their room. But secretly she can't deny that she wants her baby close, just _because_.

She doesn't tell Booth any of this, though, because it seems important to him that the nursery be complete. She loves the way his eyes shine when he talks of plans and ideas for their home. She adores the way his whole face lights up when he describes the work he and Wendell have put in on any given day. But the way he seems to have the nursery as his priority, the way he wants perfection for a daughter he's not met yet, makes everything inside her sort of clench and roll in a way that often leaves a lump in her throat.

But it's been seven days since she's visited the house. Seven days since he's given her a progress update. Seven days of not knowing what is going on in their new home. She even tried to get some information out of Wendell, but subtlety has never been her strong suit and he knew right away what she was doing.

"_Sorry, Dr. Brennan. I promised I wouldn't say. But Agent Booth did say that I should tell you to come out to the house after work."_

"_Why didn't he just tell me that himself?"_

Wendell had merely shrugged and looked highly amused when Brennan declared her work day over precisely at five.

As she pulls into the driveway, she can't see that any progress has been made. There is still a large pile of debris in the front yard, pallets stacked in the garage and a dumpster overflowing with assorted refuse and packing materials. It's a mess, but she smiles anyway because she also sees Booth walking towards her car.

"Wendell said you left early," he tells her as he opens her car door.

"It was 5 o'clock. That's not early."

"It is for you." He extends his hand and while there was a time she would have gotten out of the car on her own and ignored his chivalrous offer, she finds these days it's easier to get out of the Prius with a little extra help.

"I am anxious to see what you have accomplished," she tells him with a quick hello kiss.

"Well come on, then. Let's go inside!" He is eager; eager the way he is at Christmas, and it's infectious, because she finds she is smiling along with him.

The condition of the downstairs confirms that her suspicions are likely correct. There has been no progress made at all on the first level and Booth leads her directly to the stairs.

"Watch your step," he tells her for what she imagines to be the hundredth time since she first saw the house.

"I will," she promises as he grabs her hand again to lead her up the stairs.

"Okay, stop," He says when they reach the landing. "I'm going to cover your eyes now. I made sure it's a clear path from here to where we're going, so it should be fine but still wa—"

"Watch my step. I know." But she is laughing, because his enthusiasm is contagious.

He stands behind her, one hand over her hand, which lays over her eyes and his other hand at her hip, propelling her forward. "Keep going," he tells her when she slows down near where she estimates the nursery door to be.

But he keeps moving.

Confused, she falters a little, but Booth's sure hand tightens at her hip just a bit and she continues forward.

"Turn right," he directs her and she now knows they are headed into the master suite. "Okay. Don't open your eyes yet," Booth instructs her as he takes his hand down from hers.

"Why not?"

"I want to see your face when you open them!" He tells her and she can hear by the location of his voice that he's moving to stand in front of her. "Alright. Open them."

The first thing she sees is Booth's face, wearing that wicked combination of cockiness and vulnerability she has come to know and adore over their years together. But beyond that…

Beyond that is perfection. The walls have been restored and painted a beautiful blue-gray color. The artwork they chose together hangs on the wall and the bed and nightstands they ordered are in place. The bedding is on and as lovely as she imagined it would ever be.

"How…" She can't even finish her thought, because she is turning in a slow circle to see the rest of the room.

"The furniture store called last week and said our order was in early. I wanted to surprise you."

"It's beautiful," she tells him and she means it. It is beautiful. Crown molding edges the ceiling and the windows have molding as well. There is a gorgeous, plush area rug beneath the bed; the dresser they selected is on one wall with a mirror they'd bought hanging above it.

But it is the last corner of the room that truly takes her breath away.

There is a cradle.

"I know I've been talking about the nursery, but I thought at first we'd want to keep her close by," he says as she steps towards it.

She runs her hand over the smooth wood and finds herself unable to speak past the lump that has risen in her throat. She fingers the spindles and slowly rocks the cradle back and forth.

"Do you like it?" He asks, and while she knows he means the room, her answer is about his help out of the Prius, his sure hand guiding her way, the gorgeous bedroom, the cradle he somehow knew she needed, and so much more.

"It's everything I could ever have hoped for."

_~fin~_


	35. Shock Therapy

_Happy Birthday to the awesome Bailey80 (here) aka Bailey04 on Twitter. This is my answer to her prompt request. Also, you should read her Stolen Summer series. It's quite lovely._

_Thanks to Amilyn and jadedrepartee for the help._

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><p><strong>This takes place in The Con Man in the Meth Lab, after Brennan is shot, but before the group gathers at Founding Fathers for Booth's birthday.<strong>

As much as Booth wants to run to his partner to make sure she is okay, there is protocol to follow. It would be stupid not to make sure the sheriff is dead.

He is.

Booth turns away from the sheriff and begins to walk towards his partner when he sees her expression change and the steady steps she is taking towards him falter. She begins to sway a bit, her knees start to buckle and it is only now that he begins to run.

Despite what she said, she is not okay.

"Bones!" He reaches her quickly, wrapping one arm around her waist, holding her up.

"I'm alright."

"No, you're not. Come on. Let's sit." He is about to start for the SUV, when he realizes she won't make it.

"It burns," she says breathlessly. "Oh, god." She is leaning on him heavily and he fears she will pass out from the pain once it moves past the burning sensation.

"Alright, sit down right here." He eases her to the curb. "Put your hand over it."

"Keep the pressure on," she agrees, as she moves her trembling hand over her wound.

"I'm gonna call it in. Get a bus here, okay?"

"Yeah."

He calls it in on his cell phone. He could go through dispatch, but that would require going back to the Sequoia and he's not about to leave her. "They're on their way," he tells her when he hangs up.

"Yeah."

That's two, one syllable answers from his usually wordy partner and he doesn't like it.

"Look at me, Bones." He sits crouches in front of her and lifts her chin with two fingers.

"I think my pupils are probably dilated. I have the chills. Can't…can't focus. I think I'm going into shock."

"That's my girl." Booth says. He is thankful her analytical mind is still working, but he agrees. She's going into shock.

Her hand falls away from her wound as if she is losing the strength to keep it there and she's swaying again.

He moves behind her and sits down, one leg on either side of her, then guides her to lean back her against his chest. "Just take it easy, Bones, okay? The medics will be here soon." He wraps his arms around her to keep her body temperature up and to keep pressure on her injury.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

He laughs in spite of himself; in spite of the situation. The last few days have been such a mess for them he doesn't even know what she's apologizing for. "It's okay, Bones," he says generically, because it is. It's all okay as long as _she'_s okay.

"You had to shoot someone…" she whispers. "You…you hate that."

Anger flares up, not at her, but at the man who hurt her. "I don't feel bad about it."

"You don't…that's not how you are."

"He shot you first. It's my job to take care of you."

"You do a good job."

He snorts. "I got you shot."

"I got me shot. I talk… too much," she admits sleepily.

"Talking is good." He's panicking a little bit. He has to keep her awake. "Talk to me now, Bones. Tell me something. Anything."

"Sleepy."

"I know. I know, but you have to stay awake now, okay? Tell me….tell me all the bones in the body."

She breathes deeply. "How?"

"How what?"

"Alphabetically?"

"Um, head to toe."

"Frontal bone, parietal bone, temporal bone…there are two of those."

"Temporal bones?"

"And parietal."

"Good to know."

"Occipital bone, sphenoid bone—"

"I hear sirens, Bones."

"Okay."

"Keep going."

"Ethmoid. Those are all the cranial bones."

"What's next?" He doesn't care WHAT she says, as long as she's talking.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"For what?" The sirens were closer.

"For taking care of me." The words are a whisper.

"Of course, Bones. It's what I do."

"I'm glad." He barely hears her over the arrival of the paramedics.

And he's certain she doesn't hear him when he answers back into her hair, "I'm glad, too."

~End~


	36. Damaged Hero

Thanks Natesmama for the read through.

**Post Hero in the Hold**

He can't even name everything he feels, so he just reaches for her and holds on for dear life.

The helicopter takes off and then shakes violently in the explosion. The noise is deafening and he doesn't understand half of what's happened, what's _happening_, but he can't let go of her.

She holds on to him, too.

He's so thankful for that.

He doesn't say anything. It's loud in the chopper and she won't hear him, but more than that, his brain is jumbled and he doesn't even know where to start. He is still trying to figure it all out.

Teddy Parker is dead. But he was there, on the boat, alive. Alive and helping. And then he was dying. And then he wasn't there at all.

A woman, one of the good guys, was at his apartment. But then, she wasn't good. And then he wasn't at his apartment, but the woman wasn't anywhere, either.

And he was on a boat, and there was water and a bomb and he couldn't see well and none of any of this makes any sense.

So he just holds on.

And so does she.

The pilot sets the chopper on the ground minutes later, and the blades whir to a quiet whisper. The pilot gets out but they do not.

He can see there are others standing by. An ambulance and paramedics, some Navy personnel and Cullen.

He pulls back, not because he wants to, but because he knows what he wants to ask now, and he needs to see her face when she answers.

"You're really here?"

Her eyes fill with tears as she nods. "Yes."

"I don't…I don't know what happened."

"There's time for that, later." She motions to the paramedics and they begin to pull their stretcher towards the helicopter. "We need to get you checked out."

They are invaded then, by all the others. There are questions and orders and poking and prodding.

She doesn't leave him.

He feels horribly weak as he is placed into the ambulance, but he finds some strength in the glare she sends the paramedic who suggests she follow behind them.

She climbs in and sits next to him without a word.

He's had a little time to think, heard some of the talking and he knows a little more now. "The Gravedigger." It's more of a whisper than he means for it to be.

"Yes. But we have her now. She can't do this to anyone else."

"You never gave up," he says drowsily, the IV pain meds starting to hit. He's drifting away but he hears what she says, just the before he gives in.

"I knew you wouldn't give up."

He squeezes her hand and then sleeps.


	37. Faith

Hello, hello! **This one takes place between seasons 7 and 8, but calls way further back than that. Aliens in a Spaceship, anyone? **

Thanks to the incomparable jadedrepartee for the help!

**Faith**

It was 2am and he was still awake. He'd tried, just like every night, to sleep but he just couldn't drift away into peace like he wanted to. His dreams were fraught with tension and the sound of Christine's cries and if he was lucky enough to be dreamless, it was only because he tossed and turned and never actually slept at all.

He was so tired.

He wasn't about to give up, of course. His girls were out there, somewhere, and he would find them.

But damn if he wasn't exhausted.

He hadn't slept well since they'd left, but if he was honest, he would admit that something new was keeping him up at night.

He was losing his faith.

Faith that this nightmare would ever end.

Faith in his abilities to bring them home.

Faith that he would ever get to be happy again.

He was trudging along, every day, but it was getting harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other when every step seemed to get him exactly nowhere.

Desperate for something to numb his mind, he pulled one of his partner's books off the shelf. _"Hunting Humans: The Anthropology of the Serial Killer."_

It seemed interesting enough to attempt to read, but dull enough to put him to sleep.

Until he opened it and a paper fell out.

His eyes fell to the chapter header._ "The Grave Digger,"_ he read in a mutter, as he fingered the paper that had fallen into his lap.

It wasn't a regular piece of notebook paper or computer paper, but smaller, not unlike the pages of the book he was reading. It was smudged with dirt and slightly yellowed with age. For some reason his heart was pounding and everything in him knew this wasn't just a bookmark.

With slow and careful fingers, he unfolded the mystery.

Written in his partner's even hand were words he'd never seen before:

_Booth-_

_Don't feel guilty. I am certain you did everything you could. _

_Thank you—for everything._

_-Bones._

He was astounded by her faith in him so long ago.

He knew her belief in him, in what he could do, was stronger now.

With her endless faith in him, he could feel his own faith returning.

He settled back on the couch, running his fingers over her writing as if he could feel her presence in the words.

He would do this.

He would bring them home.

And with his hand on his chest, her note of confidence tucked securely between his palm and his heart, he slept.


	38. Unaware

****_Thanks Jena, for the quick beta._

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><p><strong>Post Wannabe in the Weeds.<strong>

Everyone just kind of fell away from her. Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Sweets, even Zack. They all just seemed to fall away.

Later, of course, she would realize it was she who fell away from them. Metaphorically, of course.

She'd remained stoic. They tried to coddle, to surround her, to help, but she didn't want that so she was harsh and unwelcoming of their kindnesses.

So they backed off but stayed around, a sort of silent solidarity among them. They would not leave her. Or him, for that matter, but her especially.

Her mind had run through a thousand scenarios, none of which had had an outcome she couldn't manage.

But then the doctor came and said the one thing she hadn't even wanted to consider. The one thing none of them had wanted to consider.

"I'm sorry. Agent Booth is dead."

And they all seemed to just fall away from her.

The room dipped and swooped and everyone seemed so far away. Voices echoed, faces were fuzzy and unfocused and her knees didn't feel like they could hold her up.

Dead. He was dead.

She felt someone, Hodgins, maybe, guide her into a chair and she heard a low sobbing that she thought might be Cam, but everyone looked and sounded like they were in a tunnel and she couldn't make any sense of any of it.

And then it hit her. The lights were too bright and their arms were too suffocating and their voices too kind and full of grief and she couldn't deal with any of it. Any of them.

She stood.

"Dr. Brennan?" She knew that was Sweets, but his voice sounded shaky and she couldn't look at him.

"I have to go," was all she said. She went out the doors of the waiting room, and immediately rounded the corner, out of sight of anyone who might come searching for her.

Angela passed her, sobbing, without even looking in the direction Brennan had fled. Brennan found an alternate exit to the hospital, called a taxi and waited.

On autopilot she gave the driver her address. On autopilot she paid him. On autopilot she put the keys in her lock and opened her door.

On autopilot she locked the door behind her so Booth couldn't lecture her about staying safe.

Only he wouldn't. Not ever again.

It was then that she cried.


	39. Looking Away

_A little (and I do mean little) something that came to me after threesquares said "Hey what ep was it with the seashell?" Thanks Bailey and Alanna for the encouragement._

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><p><strong>This Moment is from The Bullet in the Brain.<strong>

The tug on his insides was a new one.

For years he'd felt something beyond friendship and affection when he'd looked at her. A wish, a love, a longing, a joy, a desire, a need…there had been so many. And with it all was the pull of possibility. Potential. What could they become to one another if they just gave it a chance?

He had thought he was done with them all.

But this feeling was new. A new pull. A new tug.

And with it there was no potential. No possibility.

But there was still love. He supposed, looking at her on the street, listening to a seashell, that there always would be love. He'd hoped otherwise, but he knew better now.

Still this feeling wasn't that. And he had to look away when he finally did put a name to it.

Regret.

**~End~**

_Happy 2013 everyone! Be safe!_


	40. Of Begging and Desperation

_So this Moment is a little different. There is an ep coming up on which this is based, so this is not a past Moment, but a future one, as of posting. Technically, yes, it's a spoiler, though it says no more than what you would read on your cable channel guide, probably less. Still, now you know. Once the ep airs, it may be obsolete, but it's been niggling at me, so here it is. And thank you, jenlovesbones, for the help. :)_

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><p><strong>This one takes place during "A Shot in the Dark."<strong>

They say that when you are dying, your life flashes before your eyes.

Seeley Booth can attest to that. As absurd and cliché as it may seem, key moments do come to the forefront, as if the dying need a reminder of all the good things in life. Whether to comfort them as they go on to the next life or to convince them to stay in this one, Booth can't say, but he does know it happens. He's experienced it himself.

What he never knew was that it happens to the living, too. Memories and moments overwhelm them, envelop them, as the one they love the most lies dying beside them. Hands are held, wounds tended, tears shed as the memories come tumbling out, _"Remember when…, remember when…"_

The living person is trying to convince the dying loved one that there are reasons to stay, but it is also an anchor for the living. A reminder that these things are so good, so important, of course the dying will stay. They have to. Everything will be all right. More memories will be made. The anchor is pushed in further, the past brought to the fore.

"_That was the best birthday I've ever had."_

"_You looked so amazing." _

The future becomes the reason to fight.

"_It's almost my birthday now. You promised me cake, remember?"_

"_You can wear that dress again and I'll take you to dinner at that place you like."_

The living need those memories as much as the dying, and that flash, those pictures, are just as important, just as prevalent. Those memories catapult what is still supposed to come into the consciousness of the living, and they make promises about a future that is tenuous, wrapped in the threat of death_. _It's a desperate, pleading bribe:_ I will give you these things if you stay with me._

Yes, life flashes in front of the dying _and_ the living and Seeley Booth never knew that.

He never knew what those desperate moments were like, as you beg the person you love the most not to die in your arms, to stay with you, to make more good memories with you.

He'd never had to think about it.

Until today.


	41. The Point in the Peek-A-Boo

_Thanks to jaded_repartee for the beta work and idea bouncing, and to jenlovesbones for greenlighting the final draft._

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><p><strong>Post: The Archeologist in the Cocoon<strong>

"_Christine, Dr. Hagan, 3:30."_

It's written on her calendar, clear and legible, in her even penmanship. Booth prefers she not program such things into her phone these days and she concurs. With Pelant out there, electronic reminders are off limits.

Still, her phone would have sent her a reminder, whereas a paper calendar does not. And so she forgot.

"_Christine, Dr. Hagan, 3:30."_

She can't go. She has to be at the Jeffersonian to personally accept delivery of some remains arriving from a dig in Paraguay. The bones are only being sent because she agreed to examine them. She's been specifically requested and this is her chance to delve back into her original anthropological study of choice. She has to be there to receive the delivery.

Her first instinct is to cancel Christine's appointment and reschedule for a different day, but as she reaches for her phone, a picture of Booth and Christine catches her eye and gives her pause.

Perhaps this is one of those parenting things she should learn to delegate.

Generally, _she_ takes Christine to her doctor's appointments. Booth has gone a few times, but he always says he knows she more than covers the bases, (a baseball reference, she assumes,) and that he's fine getting a rundown after the appointment.

Perhaps, just this once, she could do the same.

It is important that Booth knows he has her trust for the care of their child. It is necessary that Christine knows that her father is an equal parent. Since their time away from Booth, Brennan has wanted to emphasize his part in their daughter's life. She finds it crucial that Christine understand that Booth is equally important and that those few months in hiding not skew that.

More practically, the pediatrician is difficult to get into. Appointments are made months in advance. She prefers not to get off schedule where Christine's wellness is concerned.

She can do this. Just this once she can give up the control. It will be good for all of them. Booth will be thorough. He is a good father and he always asks about the appointments; is always interested in what the percentiles and statistics mean. He often lays soft kisses on the band aids over the injection sites and tells Christine she is very brave. He will be good at this.

Yes. Booth will take Christine and she will accept delivery of the remains and everything will be fine. She can do this.

She picks up her phone now and Booth is delighted she asked, as she suspected he might be.

She _is_ doing this.

But it's not easy.

**B&B**

She can't stop checking her phone.

The remains are fascinating, an amazing find and in the past, she'd have been lost in them for hours, unaware of anything else.

That is no longer the case.

She is waiting for Booth to call. She wants to know what the doctor said. Is Christine healthy? Is she hitting the appropriate markers for her age? Is there anything she and Booth should be doing that they have somehow overlooked?

Her fingers, which would normally be itching to pick up each individual bone, are now only itching to call Booth.

But she won't.

She trusts him. She does. But…this is new. An unawareness of what is going on with their child is a feeling she wholly dislikes. So she tries to breathe and refocus. It's just a baby well check. Booth is a good father. He said he would call.

She gives up at 4:35 and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She'll just send a text. That's not as bad as a phone call, she decides, and is forming a pseudo-casual message when Booth's message to her appears on screen.

"_Doc says she looks good. See you at home."_

It's not the update she'd hoped for, but it is at least something. She decides to resist the urge to call and get more information.

She does not resist the urge to pack up and go home.

**B&B**

To her frustration, it seems Booth and Christine are running an errand because she is home before they are and finds she must wait some more. She begins dinner, starts a load of laundry and folds the contents of the dryer until she hears the front door open. The desire to hurry to the entryway races through her, but she slows herself. She must give up control sometimes and hurrying will not change the information.

"Where's Mommy?" Booth's voice carries down the hallway and she can't help but smile when she hears Christine's answering giggles.

"Hello!" She comes around the corner, closer to them, and Christine dives to her when Booth leans in to give her a quick kiss. "How was the doctor?" She moderates her voice to sound casual.

"He was good." Booth says as he takes off his coat while she removes Christine's.

She raises an eyebrow and tries to tamp down the irritation that is bubbling. "Good?"

"Yeah. He said she's in good shape. He measured, she had a shot or two." He shrugged. "Everything's fine."

"Booth—" She begins, but stops when she notices the twinkle in his eyes. "You are being purposely obtuse!" She accuses him.

"Come on, Bones. I know it's killing you. You wanna know what he said."

"Yes! Of course I do!" She is indignant and he laughs.

"Which is why I wrote it all down." With a triumphant flourish he pulls index cards from his pocket and begins to read off the information.

"She had a Hepatitis B vaccine and a Polio vaccine." He runs his finger softly over the baby's thigh. "Right here."

"Did she cry?"

"She did great." He skirts the question and continues on. "She weighs 16lbs 3 oz., which puts her in the 50th percentile. She's 28 inches, with puts her in the 60th percentile."

"Those are very impressive statistics, Christine," Brennan tells her daughter. "What else?"

"Her head is 45 centimeters. I forgot to ask him how much that is in inches."

"17.7 inches," she replies automatically.

"I figured you'd know." He smiles. "And that's the 75th percentile. She's got a big brain like her mama."

"The doctor said that?"

"No, I say that." Booth grins. "No way does her big noggin come from me."

"It's not big. It's perfect." She nuzzles her daughter's cheek with her nose.

"You know, Bones, I asked him about the peek-a-boo thing."

She meets his eyes over their daughter's head and can't quite seem to breathe properly. She had accepted the notion that Christine's disinterest in peek-a-boo was not a real issue, but if Booth was concerned enough to ask the pediatrician, perhaps she was wrong. "What did he say?"

"He said it's not just a game. It's about object permanence. That babies learn that just because they can't see something for a second, that doesn't mean it isn't there."

"Yes. It's a developmental marker. One that she doesn't seem to have grasped yet."

"I think she has."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Why? Have you attempted to play it with her lately? Because I have had no success in getting her to engage in peek-a-boo."

"She doesn't play it Bones, because she already knows we're permanent. We're always gonna be here. Even when she can't see us. She's not behind. She's ahead. She knows that wherever we are, we're coming back." He waved one finger back and forth between them and smiles. "Object. Permanence."

She tilts her head and considers his words, because his logic is flawed and ridiculous and romantic, but it's not outside of realm of possibility. They're permanent and Christine is secure in that. Nothing has ever mattered to her more than the security and happiness of their daughter and she would like nothing more than to believe her daughter has no fear at all that her parents will ever leave her.

So she decides to agree.

Christine doesn't play peek-a-boo with them because she already knows they will always be there.

She lays her cheek on top of her daughter's baby soft hair and takes a deep breath, reveling in the smell of her as she smiles back at her partner.

"I think that sounds exactly right."


	42. A Good Man

_It's Bones night, so I don't know who's reading fic tonight, but this has been on my mind. Thanks Sharon and Jen for the read-throughs._

* * *

><p><strong>This one is post The Twist in the Plot<strong>

She watched him from the doorway.

He didn't know she was there and she thought that was probably for the best. This didn't seem like a moment she should intrude upon. Not yet.

From his posture she could tell that what he was doing was difficult. He had that strain about him, a tension that he always had whenever he had to deliver bad news or was trying to push down his emotions. She could see it in the way he leaned forward, the way his shoulders hunched just a bit.

She couldn't hear all the words clearly, at first. She leaned in, just a smidge, to hear a little bit better.

Then, what she could hear made her cry.

And when he was finished, as far as she could tell, she crossed the room to him, sitting down beside him on the arm of the couch.

"You okay, Babe?"

"Yeah."

She looked at the screen. "He looks young."

"He does. I think he made this when I was 12 or so. He would've been about 40, I guess. Christine brought it over last weekend. I wasn't ready…but uh, today I wanted to call him and talk to him. And I couldn't, so..." His voice cracked.

"You watched this."

Her husband nodded.

"You'll miss him."

"Yeah." He swiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "He was a good man, you know? Just…I mean, he was a great dad, but he was a _good man._"

"He was. You're just like him."

"I'm not anything like him."

"You may not have been a sniper, or an FBI agent, but you are a good man. You love your family. You'd do anything for me and the kids and for your mom and Christine and Temperance. You got that from him."

"You think so?"

"I know it."

"Thanks."

"Come to bed?"

"In a minute. I… I think I'm going to call Temperance. Say goodnight. Make sure she's okay."

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Just like your father would have."

She left him with that thought and as she climbed the stairs, his voice echoed in the room behind her.

"Hey. I just…I just wanted to say hi." A pause and a short laugh. "Yeah, I guess I am checking up on you. Is Christine still there with you?"

Parker's wife made her way to bed with a sad smile.

There would never be another man like Seeley Booth.

But in all the ways that counted, his son came very close.


	43. The Bug Man at the Bar

For RositaLG, because it's her birthday. Happy birthday, my friend. There aren't any ties and there isn't any smut, but there is Hodgins, and I know you love him.

Thanks jenlovesBones for the help.

* * *

><p><strong><em>This one is set after the heart crushing finale, "The Secret in the Siege."<em>**

There were, of course, the expected repercussions from the choice he'd been forced to make.

He expected that Pelant would make good on his threat and that he had no choice but to continue to comply.

He expected the withdrawal he saw and felt from his partner.

He expected the nosy questions from the shrink.

He expected the cold shoulder from Angela and the confused, sad stares from Cam and all of the harrumphing from Caroline.

But what Booth did not expect the bug guy in the bar.

Initially, Booth considered walking right back out of The Founding Fathers when he saw Hodgins sitting there.

He didn't want to socialize. He wanted to have some bourbon and stew about his life. But there was Hodgins, nursing his own drink.

Quickly, the choice was taken from him. He'd been spotted, so he took the seat next to the squint.

"Hey, Man," said the entomologist.

"Hey." Booth signaled the bartender, who knew his usual choice, and waited for Hodgins to start peppering him with questions and judgment.

He didn't.

They drank in silence and Booth was thankful that. At least someone was simply accepting what had happened and not crucifying him for it.

After a while Hodgins stood. "You're buying."

Booth nearly choked in surprise. "Why?"

Hodgins gave a wry smile. "Keep the money, kill the girls, remember? I'm broke."

Booth snorted, "Right. Sorry."

"It's just money." Hodgins shrugged. "I don't think my cost was higher than other people's, you know?"

"I know it wasn't."

Hodgins nodded, "Yeah. I thought you might."

Booth opened his mouth to respond, but there was nothing he could say. He couldn't risk it.

Hodgins clapped his hand on Booth's shoulder and left the bar without another word.

But suddenly, Booth felt much less alone.


	44. Listing Truths

_Thanks to Cindee for the read through._

* * *

><p><strong>This Moment is also set after the S8 finale, The Secret in the Siege.<strong>

**B&B**

It happened in the form of a shopping list two weeks after Booth had broken her heart.

She'd announced a trip to the grocery store and he'd made her a list. This was how they functioned now. She didn't try to guess what he wanted anymore.

But when she pulled out the list in the health food aisle and looked at it, she noticed that some of the items were very unusual for Booth.

_Pretzels_

_Edamame_

_Licorice_

_Arugula_

_Nectarines_

_Tarragon_

_Macaroni_

_Apples_

_Donuts_

_Eggs_

_Mayo_

_English muffins_

Booth disliked grocery store donuts.

He wouldn't ever ask for Arugula.

And what on earth would he need Tarragon for?

It only took a moment longer for her to begin to see it.

_**P**__retzels_

_**E**__demame_

_**L**__icorice_

_**A**__rugula_

_**N**__ectarines_

_**T**__aragon_

_**M**__acaroni_

_**A**__pples_

_**D**__onuts_

_**E**__ggs_

_**M**__ayo_

_**E**__nglish muffins_

Once she realized it wasn't a regular list, the words leapt off the page.

"_Pelant made me."_

Brennan's heart was pounding and her mouth was dry.

She should have realized sooner that something wasn't right.

But she hadn't. She'd been too busy trying to let it go. Too busy analyzing where she'd gone wrong to see that it didn't make sense. And she would wager that he'd been just as miserable as she had over the last two weeks.

Pelant. That bastard.

She took a deep breath and pushed her cart forward to collect the items he'd asked for. She couldn't raise suspicion by not getting them, just in case Pelant was somehow watching, was that in tune with the minutia of their daily life he'd know all about a grocery list. She would give him no tip off, nothing to make him suspicious.

Booth had taken a chance with this secret communication. She would find a way to communicate back.

She would not allow Pelant to triumph.

She checked out, her items and Booth's code words bagged together.

She drove home, still without a way to make him understand that she knew, now, what had happened. She'd seen his message and understood it hadn't really been his choice.

It still hurt, but it made more sense.

She parked her car, grabbed all her bags and took them inside, still debating how to say what he needed to know without saying anything at all.

His eyes were hopeful as he asked her. "Did you get what I needed?"

She studied him for second, his little boy expression making her chest tighten.

"I did." She looked straight into his eyes and tried to sound nonchalant. "I got it all."

He nodded and side by side, they put away the groceries.

That night, in bed, under the covers, he slipped his hand around hers and squeezed.

She squeezed back.

They were on their way to healing.


	45. Message Delivered

In my head, for this Moment, Brennan knows why Booth called off their engagement, but that doesn't necessarily leave them in a good place. The show won't go this route, but that's exactly what fic is for!

Thanks to the usual suspects. Not sure what I'd do without them.

* * *

><p>He could still taste the blood that had run down his cheek from the cut on his forehead. He could feel the pressure in his ribs with every breath and he limped from the pain shooting through his left leg.<p>

But he had something to tell his partner. There was something she needed to know, something they'd both been waiting for and he wanted to look her in the eyes when he told her.

She looked up from her desk the second he came into her office.

"Booth!" It was a whispered, horrified gasp as she stood, her chair rolling backwards when she jumped to her feet, stepping towards him. "What—"

"It's done, Bones."

She stopped with a sharp breath in, then nodded on the shaky exhale. "He's dead?"

"Yeah. Through the head once. Clean kill."

She nodded again. "Okay." She stepped backwards until her legs touched her chair and she sank down into her seat. "Okay."

He surveyed her for a moment, debating what else to say. They were, right now, so very broken and finding himself at a loss for words, Booth turned to leave so she could have the space she needed in order to think.

"Booth, did you…was it…" She stumbled over the words as he pivoted back to face her.

"It was above-board, Bones. By the book, according to protocol."

"It wouldn't matter to me if it wasn't."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Because it would matter to you."

He gave her a wan smile, unable to agree.

Pelant had needed killing.

And maybe now they could rebuild.


	46. Red Wine and Rage

_This Moment takes place in the Season 9 premier, The Secret in the Proposal. There maybe be some promo based info in here, so if you are trying to go completely without knowledge of what's coming up, this may not be a good read for you. That said, I don't think it's especially spoiler-ish. _

_I think the point of view on this will be fairly obvious._

__Lots of thanks to Rynogeny for the read through and suggestions and Jenlovesbones for the back and forth, beta help and title suggestions on this one.__

* * *

><p>He decided to drink with them.<p>

He, of course, was celebrating; sort of the opposite of what his targets were doing. He'd been observing them, waiting for this moment since he set his plan into action.

This was the end of Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan.

He'd been watching them unravel with great glee. It had gone even better than he'd hoped, really. Agent Booth had broken the engagement and then began to fall apart spectacularly while Dr. Brennan tried with desperate sadness to understand what was happening to them.

Had he been a betting man, he'd have bet that it would have been she who'd go quiet and he who'd try to cling to what they'd had.

He supposed it was a good thing they could still surprise him after all this time. After all, it kept the game interesting.

On the worst days he had been certain Booth would give in and tell her. He really didn't want to kill five people. Not that he cared about the people, of course, but it was just inconvenient to have to get it done. It worked much better that Booth kept his mouth shut and kept digging his own hole. As far as he was concerned, he might have raked away the topsoil, but Booth had dug his own grave.

And that had brought him here, to this moment.

He poured some wine. Red, same brand as Dr. Brennan's preferred label, and waited with her for Agent Booth to arrive.

He was giddy as he stared at the monitors he had set up.

Agent Booth had the house swept once a week for bugs. Every Thursday, Booth would stay home in the morning and his tech friend would come in and check it out.

They never found anything because as soon as the Booth went to the door to let the tech guy in, he would hit his master switch and shut everything down. For one hour, nothing would transmit any sounds or signals. One hour a week the Brennan/Booth house was radio silent. Nothing coming from the tiny cameras he'd placed, nothing from the bugs. Booth never noticed the clocks blinking when the switch was hit, he never saw that momentary blip that signaled off or on. He was always too busy being either worried or relieved. It played out that way every single Thursday and had for months.

Booth's predictability had ended up being his greatest asset. It had given him the advantage in the game and for that, he was appreciative. He'd known Booth wouldn't risk innocent lives, known the tech guy always came Thursdays, known Booth wouldn't notice the clocks. He'd known his little game would end them.

And now, it was here. She had wine (and so did he) and as he watched Agent Booth come through the door, he couldn't help but lean forward in anticipation.

This was the penultimate part of the game. This was when Agent Booth would be destroyed and Brennan would be free.

The start of a new beginning.

He took his glass and tipped it towards the bank of screens. "Cheers, Agent Booth. It's been fun."

He smirked as Booth began to ask Brennan for more time. Beg, really.

He'd won.

Until…

"_I'm not leaving you."_

No.

No. No. No. No. No. No! NO! _NO!_

He watched her step into Booth's arms.

Rage welled up inside as he watched her put her faith in Booth, watched her give him every benefit of the doubt; watched as she held him close and promised she believed in him.

Believed in _them._

No.

This couldn't be real.

This is not how this was supposed to go.

He turned his back on the monitors, unable to watch her apologize, unwilling to bear witness to her gluing their life together _back_ together.

Seething with anger, his fist clenched around the stem of his wine glass as their next words pierced his cool exterior.

"_Next time, it's your turn to ask me to marry you."_

"_I will."_

He wanted to snap the glass in two.

How dare she? This was not scientific thinking. This was not logic and reason.

This was not the Dr. Brennan he knew.

The unmistakable sound of kissing, a sound he hadn't heard from their house in months, was his undoing.

He turned and pitched his glass of wine at the screens with an unintelligible roar of furious defeat, the glass shattering as the red liquid seeped into his control panel.

The screen blinked and went dark.

His heart pounding and his breath labored with anger, he watched smoke rise from his console as the air buzzed with frying wires. He'd shorted out the circuitry, but he just couldn't care. He knew what came next and he sure as hell didn't want to see it.

He allowed himself two minutes of unchecked rage, 120 seconds of fury, before he regrouped.

He seethed, livid at this turn of events.

And then he smiled as an idea began to take hold.

He would fix the computer. It wasn't a problem.

And then he would fix this little hiccup. He would put the game back on the right course.

Nobody had ever beaten Christopher Pelant, and he wasn't about to let Booth and Brennan be the first.

The game wasn't over, but it was time to end it.

His way.


	47. The Art of Extraction

This is takes place at the reception we didn't see after The Woman in White. Such a great wedding, right?!

* * *

><p>By the end of the night, Booth's tie was hanging loose around his neck, his sleeves were rolled up, and several buttons were undone. He'd done a lot of dancing, a lot of toasting, a lot of hugging and he'd kissed his wife at every single opportunity that presented itself.<p>

His wife.

Even now, as he leaned against the bar, watching the reception die down, he was still awed by the fact that he was now Temperance Brennan's husband.

He had someone to thank for helping with that.

He scanned the room, but before he could find his wife's best friend, she zeroed in on him to give what was probably her fifth congratulatory hug.

"I'm just so happy for you guys," Angela breathed into his ear, squeezing him tightly. When she pulled back, he could see the tears forming and he figured she was pretty tipsy. "And, I have something I need to say to you."

He knew what was coming. "Listen, Angela, don't say anything. You were…exactly the best friend you should have been all along. I hurt her and you love her." He swallowed hard at the memory. "You should have been mad at me. You didn't know what I was doing or why I was doing it. You were pissed and you lashed out. That's what best friends do. No hard feelings, okay?"

She shook her head. "No…I mean, yes. I am sorry for that, but to be honest, I'd do it again if you hurt her."

"I won't," he swore.

"I know," she soothed.

He motioned to the room. "Thank you. For all of this. The ceremony, too. I don't know how you pulled it off, but you did and I can't thank you enough."

"Well, that's kind of what I have to say. I didn't just do it for Brennan. Or for you_ and_ Brennan. I also did it just for you."

"You're a little drunk, because that made no sense," he teased, but he sobered quickly when he saw she was incredibly serious.

"Booth…I didn't know Brennan that long before you did. In that year where you guys didn't speak to each other? I spent a lot of time trying to get her out of her shell. Don't get me wrong, I've always loved her, just as she is, but I knew, I _knew_ she could have so much more if she'd just…come out of that cave she was hiding in."

Booth nodded as she continued. "I stood outside that cave and I tried to talk her into coming out, you know? Even after you were partners, I was always trying to convince her to come out with me, to glug-glug woo-hoo, to…to live wide. I even told her she should sail off with Sully," she let out a half-hearted chuckle. "But she rarely listened, Booth. I tried. I stood outside that cave and I called to her and I tried. But you tried, too, and you _were _successful. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because you didn't stand on the outside and yell. You didn't stand at the entrance of the cave and try to convince that she needed to come out. You went into the cave, Booth. You went in there and walked out beside her, every time she was ready to take a step. And for that, I wanted to say…thank you. Thank you for giving her this life. And for giving her to me. The real her. This beautiful , more open person that you brought out of the cave. She'd never have come out for me or her dad or anyone else. We were all standing on the outside, waiting. You didn't wait with us. You waited with her. You are the best thing that ever happened to her and I'm thankful for that, every day."

Angela wasn't the only one getting misty.

"Thanks, Angela. She's so lucky to have you. We both are."

"That works both ways." She smiled, swiping the tears away with her fingers. "So…are you gonna buy me a drink?"

"It's an open bar, Angela."

"So you are buying," she joked as she signaled for the bartender to refill her empty champagne flute.

Booth held up his bottle of beer as the bartender finished pouring. "To friends."

Angela smiled and raised her glass, too. "And happiness."

"And happiness. Definitely, happiness." He took his celebratory swig and pushed off from the bar. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Angela, I need to go kiss my wife."


	48. The Phone Call

Hello! It feels like we're well into the hiatus, but it's only been a few weeks! Booooo. So here's a little something from Season 6, when things also seemed sad and grim to our favorite FBI agent (but maybe not so much for us shippers!)

Special thanks to Laffers and JM Haughey for the back and forth, and to the lovely and comma savvy Angela Leigh for the beta work!

* * *

><p><strong>From Daredevil in the Mold.<strong>

Her phone didn't ring much anymore.

True, there were still cases, and she was called for those, but other than that, her phone was quiet.

She'd gotten used to it. It was part of her adjustment. Part of her acceptance. Part of the new, upside down world she was learning to live in.

Booth didn't call anymore.

She missed him. Beyond missing her chance, she missed _him_.

Her old, logical self would say that was ridiculous. She saw him all the time.

Her current self, the one navigating this new life, understood that his physical presence wasn't enough to fill the void his emotional absence left.

She missed him dropping by with dinner for her. She missed him calling to tell her that Parker had a homework question for her. She missed the calls when something occurred to him late at night. She missed the calls when he really didn't have anything to say but "see you tomorrow." She missed the calls that meant he cared about where she was, all the time.

She missed that phone ringing, knowing he would be on the other end, because they didn't do that now.

So when the phone rang at 9:42 PM, she expected it to be Cam with a case, because it was never Booth anymore.

"Brennan," she answered without looking up from the report she was working on.

"Temperance," a shaky voice came through the line and she recognized it in an instant. "It's—''

"Hannah, what's wrong? Where's Booth?" The late call, the tremor in Booth's girlfriend's voice, filled Brennan with terror.

"He's not hurt. It's not…it's not that."

"Oh." Relief flooded her. "I'm sorry. I thought—"

"He proposed."

It took Brennan a few seconds to process the words, a second more to recover from the shock, and one more to school her voice in an effort to disguise the anguish that was crippling her regular breathing.

"Well, that's…congratulations, Hannah. I'm very happy for you."

"I said no."

"What?" She froze in place.

"I can't…I mean… you know, Temperance. I've always said I wasn't the marrying kind. I thought he understood that."

Brennan closed her eyes, the relief she felt at war with the devastation she knew her partner must be feeling. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure. I left him in the park, near the fountain, about an hour ago. I thought…can you go? Do you have any idea where he'd be?"

"I'll find him." She was already putting on her coat, grabbing her keys.

"Thank you, and..." Hannah hesitated. "Take care of him. You're the one he really needs. He only thinks it was me."

Brennan opened her mouth to protest but couldn't find the words before Hannah spoke again.

"Goodbye, Temperance."

Brennan began to respond, but realized that Hannah had already disconnected the call. It was just as well. She had nothing left to say to her, really.

She just needed to find Booth.


	49. One Last Bedtime Story

This one is self explanatory. Unbeta'd, so the mistakes are mine.

**One Last Bedtime Story**

Christine Booth had waited 14 long years for this day.

She was 18 today. _Eighteen._

Like most kids, she was excited for the freedom that 18 would bring (though with an FBI dad, freedom was a relative term) and she was excited for college (though with a genius mother, she didn't see the first 4 years as all that much of a challenge,) but there was one thing that she was looking most forward to. And finally, after all these years, it was time.

She'd spent the day at school, had dinner with her family, and done the obligatory candle blowing, cake eating and present opening. Then her dad had handed her one last package and she'd escaped to her room with it. For this, she wanted to be alone.

She settled on her bed, legs crossed. She held the manila envelope a little away from her body, palms up, and lifted her hands up and down, feeling its heft. Her name was scrawled in a semi-familiar script across the front in bold, black ink. _"For Christine, on her 18__th__ birthday."_

The truth was she didn't remember all that much about her Uncle Sweets. She remembered he was nice and super fun. She remembered going to the park with him. He pushed her high on the swings. She remembered that he once fell asleep on the floor next to her bed when her dad was gone and she was feeling scared. She remembered his silly stories about nice people who adopted a baby duck and let him follow them around. She remembered that he used to sneak her Tootsie Rolls when her mother wasn't looking.

And she remembered when he died. It was the only time she'd ever seen her father cry.

She'd always known he'd left her something. She'd been standing beside her mother 14 years ago when Daisy had handed the envelope to her. "I don't know what it is," the pregnant intern had said. "I didn't think it was right to look. But he wanted her to have this. He loved her, you know?"

That was one of the few times Christine had seen her mother cry, too.

But now it was time.

She broke the tape he'd put over the clasp as extra security and then lifted up the gold tabs to open the envelope. Tilting the envelope at a downward angle, two things fell out.

The first was a manuscript. She'd seen enough of her mother's to know one when she saw one. "Bones—The Heart of the Matter."

The other was a note.

_Dear Christine,_

_If your reading this, I'm dead, which is a huge bummer, because that means I'm not around to hang out with you. I really loved being your Uncle Sweets. I liked going to the park and playing hide-and-seek, and sneaking you Tootsie Rolls, but my favorite thing was the bedtime stories. Do you remember those? I liked telling you about the people who adopted the baby duck and how he followed them everywhere. But now I figure you're old enough to hear about the people and how they came to love each other, before the duck was even around. And how the duck wanted to become part of what they had so badly he annoyed them but they let him in and loved him anyway. _

_About how your parents are the people._

_And I am the duck._

_Was the duck, I guess._

_Anyway, it's a good story and I think you should read it, because you're not much younger now than I was when I met them and I think you should know the story of your parents. And I think you should know what cool people they are and how you are a lucky kid to have them._

_So was I._

_I planned to write one of these notes every year and to add to the book until I died. If you're reading this note, you were only 4 when I died. That blows, because I missed a lot of really epic stuff, I bet. And I missed most of your childhood, too, so I left you something besides the book. Don't tell your mom. _

_Stay awesome._

_Love, _

_Uncle Sweets_

A quick look on her bed revealed nothing but the manuscript, so Christine picked up the envelope and tipped it all the way over until something rolled out.

It was a Tootsie Roll.

She smiled, wondering briefly about the shelf life of candy before deciding she didn't want to eat it anyway. She folded the note gingerly and then placed it and the candy in her keepsake box.

There was a knock at her door as both her parents poked their heads in. "Everything good?" Her dad asked, in an effort to not ask what he really wanted to know.

"Yeah. I'm just going to settle in for the night. Do some reading."

"Happy Birthday, Christine," said her mother, looking at the manuscript on the bed and then looking back at her daughter with a smile. "Enjoy your book."

"I think I will."

She heard her parents head to bed. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas and got under her covers, ready to do some reading.

Ready to be tucked in, one last time, by her Uncle Sweets.


End file.
